Chuck Vs the Getaway
by WeAreAllStoriesInTheEnd
Summary: It's a game of cat and mouse. On what was supposed to be their honeymoon, Chuck and Sarah accidently embark on an adventure that will test everything they've come to know: love, trust, commitment, and of course a little espionage along the way. UNFINISHED
1. In the Jungle, the Mighty Jungle

Chapter One: In the Jungle, the Mighty Jungle

**AN**: Hi everyone! College is on break and so I have some free time to write. I have a lot of stories on my mind, but I'm not sure if they're what my loyal viewers would like to read. So what I'm doing is posting a one-shot that can be expanded into a full-fledged story (like this one) that hopefully will be enjoyable for everyone. It all depends on the feedback I receive people!

I don't own Chuck, that's NBC (ugh) and TPTB.

R&R

***Update 12/23/10: **I made corrections to this chapter. Enjoy!

* * *

The two spies charged through the incredibly dense jungle. Traveling only a few paces apart, they zigzagged in and out of the narrow maze with no intention of stopping. They were running for their lives. Not too far behind them, a cacophony of angry voices echoed with a righteous boom; bullets were flying in every direction. The rounds fired hadn't been accurate, missing their intended targets to ricochet off the trees and forest floor. The faster of the duo drew her gun after hurdling over a gnarled log. She was able to pop off a couple of shots before falling back into a sprint.

The other spy was doing his best to keep up with her. He found it to be a great task in itself. The satchel strapped across his chest was swinging erratically whilst he ran. Every step resulted in his mess of curls bouncing into his line of vision. He'd brush them away; then glance quickly over his shoulder to see if anyone was still pursuing them. He saw no one. The beginnings of a smile stretched over his face, but not before a bullet whizzed a millimeter away from his head. Brown eyes widened to the size of saucers.

"Honey, please tell me you know where we are going?" hallored the curly-haired spy.

"I don't have the faintest idea, but neither do they," replied an out of breath Sarah Walker. Her voice had a slight edge to it as she spoke, "We just need to keep moving, Chuck."

Chuck Bartowski heaved an exasperated sigh. They had been running for what it seemed to be hours. Sooner or later his legs were going to betray him. But he did not want to tell Sarah any of this. She was currently in agent-mode; shaping a path out of the undergrowth so they could seek an escape route. Not wanting to disturb her, Chuck kept his mouth shut. Sarah took a sharp turn to the left and he followed like a diligent soldier. Neither of them broke rhythm: they went deeper into the jungle, to where the atmosphere shifted almost immediately. What was once bright and clear became gloomy with an impenetrable darkness surrounding them. The air turned thick, humid. Chuck found it increasingly difficult to breathe. The heat seemed to have been sucking all of the moister from his body, leaving him feeling like he was in a daze. Disorientated, Chuck lost his footing in a patch of mud and tripped. He fell with a hard thud. He found himself on all fours with sludge covering him from head to toe. Wiping his face off with the back of his hand, he spat the dirt from his mouth. He then began to remove himself from the mess but found he was stuck. The sound of gunfire closing in wasn't lost on Chuck. That's when he started to panic.

Chuck shouted frantically: "Sarah, help please!"

Sarah's ears perked up. Her sprint slowed into a brisk walk as she craned her neck in one motion. Chuck was immersed in what appeared to be muddy lagoon. She inwardly rolled her eyes at his clumsiness. Spying wasn't able to fully dimish that trait of his. Sarah would've even laughed if the circumstances were different. But lives were on the line-mainly theirs. She hurriedly backtracked towards him; reached out a hand and beckoned for him to take it. Chuck clasped his hand in hers and was hoisted up to his feet. Not a momebt had passed and the duo was back to running once more.

"Thanks," Chuck said with upmost gratitude. He had galloped beside her; rewarding her selfless deed with a wide grin. She returned his gesture with a smile of her own. It faded however once her eyes caught something troubling.

Her bliss was shortlived. "I wouldn't thank me just yet." She told him morosely.

Chuck noted the worrisome gilmmer in her blue eyes and he too felt all of the euphoria for the rush of the chase leave him completely. His brows knitted together in confusion. "And why's that?"

Sarah came to an abrupt stop. Chuck cautiously followed suit while giving her a weird look. Sarah hardly ever showed even a hint of fear. She was normally so composed. Chuck concentrated on her expression for a brief time, and then he tore his gaze away to find what had upset Sarah so badly. It was a dead end. Ahead of them was the edge of a cliff. It overlooked a small lake that was at least a fifty foot drop. Chuck then heard the steady rumbling of a nearby waterfall. They were standing on top of it. The fresh water rushed between their feet as it flowed freely through the cobblestone creek all the way where it cascaded down the cliff itself. A powerful mist hovered in the air and stuck mercilessly onto their skin.

Chuck felt his fingers clench the satchel involuntarily. His heart was pounding hard in his chest; blood was rushing into his ears. It distracted him from the overpowering roar of the waterfall. It almost rivaled it. A frown tugged on the corners of his mouth while his stomach began to do summersaults.

_We're doomed, _he realized

"We need to jump."

Sarah's calm voice brought Chuck out of his distraught thoughts. He whipped his head and gave her a quick double-take. Sarah missed it, and approached the end of the cliff. She studied the drop with great consideration. Chuck saw that she had _that _look in her eyes. He felt bile rise up in his throat, begging she was not really thinking about actually going through with it.

"Are you serious?" Chuck's voice went up an octave. "We can't jump! We're up way too high! We won't make it! It's suicidal!"

"If we don't try, those men will find us and kill us anyway," she countered. "We have no choice. At least if we do die, it'll be on our terms…"

Chuck was still giving her an incredulous look. "You really know how to put things into perspective," he deadpanned. "I think that's what I love about you most."

She dismissed his sarcastic remark. Facing him, she said seriously. "Chuck, I know how to make the appropriate jump from this kind of height but you'll be seriously injured from a fall like this…we can't afford that so I need you to flash."

Chuck crept to the edge, peered downward and cringed. "Flash…god, Sarah. I've been flashing enough for a lifetime...I don't think the Intersect or my mind can take it—"

A single bullet emerged from the growth of trees and almost clipped Chuck once again. He yelped in surprise, shooting straight into the air. The Intersect instantly activated itself and a flash consumed him. Information on how to cliff-dive flooded his senses, filling him with the appropriate confidence to get the task done. Images of famous Olympic divers imprinted into his brain and stuck there. Once the flash ended, Chuck's eyes sharpened with determination. He looked to Sarah with his trademarked smirk and nodded.

He was ready.

So was she.

And so they jumped.

* * *

Down.

Down.

And down.

The free fall lasted for only seconds but it felt more like an eternity. When Chuck finally penetrated the lake's surface, he felt his entire body scream in protest. Water was rushing around him, through him, above him, so deafening that the hail of gunfire which cut through the water was just background noise. His body was suspended in the vast depths; small bubbles trickled from his open mouth.

_I'm alive. _He thought in wonder. Then he opened his eyes and spun around. _Where's Sarah?_

He felt something prod his shoulder and he turned. Sarah was hovering beside him with a look of alarm. Chuck frowned. What was wrong? But then it hit him. A burst of pain suddenly enveloped his right leg and he screamed. The water surrounding them was dyed a crimson red. Chuck looked down and saw that there was a hole burrowed deep in his upper thigh. Blood was seeping out, clouding his vision.

_I got shot. I GOT SHOT._ It had only dawned on him that this was the first time he had been actually harmed by a live firearm. He mentally chuckled—mostly because he was losing consciousness and had to laugh at the irony of it all. His vision began to grow fuzzy. Breathing was a lost luxury as was movement. He felt himself sinking further into the lake; Sarah had become only a faint outline. Chuck closed his eyes and waited for the impending blackness to carry him away.

* * *

_Chuck?_

He had no strength to open his eyes and see his savior's identity. All he wanted to do was rest and pretend that everything he had just gone through in the past twenty-four hours was only a horrible dream.

_Chuck, please…_

A pair of wet lips pressed onto his. Then a panting voice spoke from over his head; choking through tears.

"Chuck, wake up!"

Nothing but the shock of such a warm kiss could have given Chuck the energy to open his eyes. Coughing up a mouthful of water, he staggered to a sitting position. Kneeling before him was Sarah, fully dressed but drenched to the skin, blonde hair plastered to her face. Both hands were softly caressing his cheeks.

"W-where are we?" He asked dumbly. His eyes shifted back and forth, still dicombobulated by his near-death experience. His leg then exploded into a fiery pain. He cursed, "Argh, dammit!"

Sarah's hands left his face and fell to the site of the wound. They roamed freely, examining where the bullet originally entered and then were it made its exit. Holding his leg steady, Sarah glanced up to Chuck and gave him comforting smile. Chuck relaxed a little, but not much. Everything still hurt like hell.

"Chuck, I need you to calm down," she instructed.

Chuck yelled: "_Calm down?_ Sarah, I was shot!"

"It's not that bad. The bullet hit you above the knee and seemed to have just passed through. You're lucky it didn't hit the femoral artery." Sarah explained with a sigh of relief. Her voice became merely a whisper, "You would've bled out in seconds."

Chuck shuddered at the thought.

Sarah pulled a knife from out of her top and proceeded to cut away at the portion of Chuck's jeans that surrounded the wound. She tore the fabric to reveal a small bullet hole in his thigh. Chuck gave it a quick look before his face paled; he averted his eyes and concentrated on the lake instead. It appeared that Sarah had dragged him into a small cavern that was hidden behind the waterfall. There was no way that those men would ever find them down there.

"You're going to be fine," he heard Sarah say to him. She sounded confident in the statement and Chuck believed her. "All I need to do is make a tourniquet so you don't lose anymore blood…"

"How are you going to do that?"

Sarah removed her jacket and placed it underneath his leg. She then wrapped it around the wound and tied it into a knot. Lifting her gaze up to him, she backed up to her feet and receded back into the pool of water.

"Where are you going?" Chuck asked.

"I'll be back in a sec," she assured him. Then added, "Don't freak out."

And with that, she was gone. For several minutes Chuck waited in silence. His mind was incredibly hazy as his body was weakened from the lack of food, water, and now his new injury. All he wanted to do was sleep but he knew it'd be a bad idea. He tried to remain calm and awake as he waited patiently for Sarah to return. Just as his eyes began to droop, she had come back; crouched down before him with a stick clutched between her fingers.

He raised an eyebrow.

"You left me for a stick?" he asked in disbelief. "What's that supposed to do?"

"This will save your life," Sarah explained. She used each knot provided by the jacket to wrap around both ends of the stick; then twisted the stick around several revolutions until Chuck felt a stab of pain, and then nothing but a dull throb. "Feel better?"

Chuck blinked. He stared down at his leg, flexing it up and down. "Surprisingly, yes, for now anyways." he paused for a moment and then changed the subject. "Do you think they're gone?"

Sarah bit her lip; turned to look beyond the waterfall's veil. "Maybe," she guessed. "It's getting late and they probably think if we're not dead, we're at least injured or out of options…They'll be back tomorrow. This is why we need to be gone before they arrive."

"Great," Chuck sighed and removed the satchel and placed it on the ground. He did not want to look at it anymore. It was the cause of all their troubles. The stupid satchel with its equally stupid contents hidden inside. Why couldn't they have just ignored it? Why did a simple flash have to ruin everything? He rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed. He lifted his eyes to Sarah, jesting, "This must be the greatest honeymoon of all time, huh?"

Sarah wringed her hair and a touch of a smile crossed her lips. She took a seat next to Chuck and nudged him playfully. "We're alive and still together despite everything. That has to count for something."

Chuck smiled lopsidedly; snaked an arm around her shoulder and brought her closer to him. He pressed a kiss firmly onto her damp forehead as she nestled into the crook of his neck. She felt him gently stroking her hair. Her eyes dropped to where her hand was intertwined with his: two rings sparkled brilliantly in the sunlight.

"It counts for something," Chuck agreed with a whisper. "Mrs. Bartowski."

Her heart soared whenever Chuck called her his wife. It made the most terrible circumstances bearable. Because she was his and he was hers. They were unified, joined together to death till they part. Nothing could change that. And as the sun began its descent behind the horizon, and darkness reigned over them, there was a steady downpour of rain outside of the cave. This lulled the newlyweds into a peaceful sleep, in which the dreamed of a brighter future.

* * *

An: So how was it? Depending on the reviews, I'll decide whether I want to continue/discontinue the story. I have a lot of ideas for this one! If you haven't noticed, this deals with Chuck and Sarah's honeymoon that obviously goes haywire. Most of my inspiration for this story comes from the PS3 game, Uncharted and the Showtime series, Weeds. And of course Chuck. This will be totally C/S with little Casey/Morgan/Beckman etc. There should also be a cameo by Carina somewhere so yeah! :D


	2. The Lions Sleep Tonight

Chapter Two: The Lions Sleep Tonight

**An: **Hey everybody! Thank you all so much for the kind reviews, I really appreciated the feedback. I'm proud to announce that I will be continuing this story—obviously or else I wouldn't have posted this! Before I let ya'll get reading, I want to address a few things: Firstly, many of you expressed that there has been a sudden influx of Dark Chuck stories. Do not be alarmed, this story will be relatively light, with the same charm and wit that's in the show. Second, I have suffered from severe writer's block. I felt extremely guilty for not being able to write a longer chapter, but I feel this is the best I can do at the moment. This is more of an epilogue to Chapter One anyways…

Finally, I personally blame this story's existence on the following—the location is heavily influenced from the reality show, _Survivor_; The scenery is from the movie, _The Perfect Getaway_; The action is from the videogame _Uncharted_; and some of the plot/humor is from the Showtime TV series, _Weeds_.

So without further ado, I present the very short second chapter! Enjoy!

R&R

* * *

It was close to midnight when Sarah awoke. The storm had calmed, replacing harsh winds and a torrential downpour with barely a drizzle. Sarah was still restless, however, which made it near impossible to sleep. Her dreams had been a jumbled, unsettling mess: Chuck wove in and out of them, first of him being shot, then as he tumbled off the cliff down to his death. She woke up repeatedly, her breathing fast and uneven as she tried to reconcile with reality.

Chuck was alive.

In the pitch black darkness she could hear him moan in his sleep. He had been making those distressed noises since earlier that afternoon. Sarah prayed that he was able to gain some rest during the short break allowed by the storm. Even she knew it was only wishful thinking. The wound in his leg may not have been fatal, but the pain he withstood was almost just as bad as death. As soon as they make it out of the jungle, the first thing on Sarah's agenda would be to seek immediate medical attention. She could not bear to think the consequences if she were too late to save Chuck.

_He could get an infection, _she thought with dread. _Who knows what sort of diseases there are out here? Chuck could lose his leg or worse…_

Sarah needed to get out of there. The cave was cramped, uncomfortable and freezing cold. With all of these factors keeping her awake, she had to go get some fresh air, or something. The last thing she wanted was to remain there, listening to Chuck and brood on what she could not control. And so Sarah crawled to her feet, making sure not to disturb Chuck from his slumber when she disappeared into the shadows.

* * *

Not long after her sudden departure, Chuck found himself awake as well. He yawned loudly; looked around with groggy eyes but was blinded by the thick blackness surrounding him. He felt unnaturally cold. Scratching his unsahven beard, he pushed up against the rocky wall, biting back a groan when a burst of pain shot through his leg.

"Sarah…?" He spoke in a low, tentative voice.

There was no answer. Chuck's stomach dropped and he felt himself consciously shiver. He twisted his body around in search for his missing wife. She was no longer lying beside him. Gone, she was gone. Fear seized him at once as he struggled to a kneeling position and then finally up to his feet. Adrenaline flowed through his veins, giving him the necessary strength to limp quickly out towards the mouth of the cave.

His brain demanded her safety: _Please be ok, Sarah, please don't be…_

Chuck made it with hardly any difficulty to the jagged edges of the cavern's bank. Sarah was standing at the farthest end, her arms hugging her chest tightly as she seemed to be mesmerized by the darkness ahead of her. Droplets of rain fell from the sky and landed in the lake, creating ripples on the murky surface. Chuck felt oddly refreshed as he allowed the rain to wash him clean. The grime sloshed off of him and pooled at his feet. The throbbing in his leg dulled until it was barely noticeable and for that he was thankful. A pleasurable sigh escaped past his lips. This alerted Sarah of his presence.

Looking over her shoulder, she called to him above the roar of the waterfall. "Chuck, you shouldn't be trying to move. You're hurt…" Her voice had been drowned out.

"It's not that bad," Chuck replied with a shrug. He took a step towards her and then winced. "Alright," he corrected, "it's bad. But what's worse is to wake up and find that your wife has gone missing."

Her eyes slid closed while she was pelted by the rain. Guilt and exhaustion wrecked through her entire body. She shuddered when it all became too much to handle. Bowing her head, she whispered. "I'm sorry, I couldn't sleep."

Chuck's gaze softened. He limped to her and said, "Its ok, I understand. But just next time give me a heads-up before you go?"

"Sure."

"Good," and Chuck was now right by her side. He wrapped an arm around her waist for support, and then nuzzled into her neck. He planted a trail of warm kisses onto her damp skin before pausing to ask, "Should I know what you're thinking, Sarah? Is it about us getting out of here?"

Sarah shook her head, "No, we'll wait until dawn before we leave. I don't want to get lost in the jungle with zero visibility, and I especially don't want you to hurt yourself even worse."

"Right, makes sense I suppose."

The conversation ended abrupty when there was nothing left to say. The faint sounds of the wild beckoned to them— inhuman howls bayed to the moon while crickets chirped in perfect harmony. The constant rumbling of the waterfall went on undisturbed. It was then; with the nature of their predicament echoing all around her, did Sarah's eyes begin to moisten. Chuck felt her body tense and then spasm as she started to sob quietly.

_Is she…crying? _Chuck thought with incredulity. If there was anything Chuck knew to be true in this world it was that Sarah never cried, or when she did, it was for a damn good reason. She did not like to show any weakness if she could help it.`Chuck accepted that as a necesarry evil when being in the spy business. But this wasn't Sarah being Agent Walker tonight, it was Sarah being a normal human being-his wife, who was soaking wet, tired and frustrated.

"Sarah, what's wrong?" he faced her. Both hands now settled upon her trembling shoulders. Tears slid down her pale cheeks and Chuck pulled her into hug. She buried her head into his chest as she wept.

"Why…why did this have to happen to us?"

Chuck was petting her hair gently, doing all he could to console her. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"Our honeymoon is ruined," came her muffled reply. "It barely lasted three hours…We were supposed to have an entire week to ourselves. There wasn't supposed to be any spy missions, gunplay, or explosions! You weren't supposed to get hurt either!"

"True, but I don't see any of those things interrupting our honeymoon right at this moment."

Sarah lifted her head, peering at Chuck with traces of confusion in her blue eyes. Chuck noted this and made a gesture with his hand which encompassed everything that lay outside of the cave and beyond. "You know what I see? I see an once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to enjoy one of Panama's greatest rainforest firsthand. But more importantly, I see that I get to spend that opportunity with the most beautiful woman in the entire world."

Sarah blushed furiously and averted her eyes as a smile spread wide on her face. She then began to play absentmindedly with the fabric of Chuck's shirt. It always impressed her how he was able to find the silver lining in any given situation. In fact, it was one of his many characteristics that made her love him that much more.

She heard herself murmur against him, "How do you find any good in this?"

He chuckled and it was music to her ears. "That's easy. It's because I have you, Sarah. That's all the good I will ever need."

Chuck and Sarah gazed at each other briefly with the rain now pouring over their heads, before their lips crashed. Their bodies pressed together; Sarah's hands tangled up in his brown curls, while Chuck held her hips steady to deepen the kiss. Their mouths moved in a sensual dance and in that single moment, everything was perfect. They parted soon after. Sarah guided Chuck back to their spot in the cave. She sat him down to where he could be somewhat comfortable; used the satchel as a makeshift pillow and then laid Chuck down on his back, waiting until his eyes slid closed and he fell asleep. Sarah curled up next to him and promised she would never leave his side again.

She spent the remainder of the night awake, remembering when she and Chuck were living in their tempory paradise.

* * *

**An: **So, sorry about such a short chapter basically about nothing. It's just another set-up chapter before the huge exposition that explains what really is going on. So please review with your thoughts, criticisms etc.

Chapter three is next: Doing the Backstroke—takes us back to the beginning of Chuck and Sarah's short honeymoon. Where are they, what are they doing and how the hell do they get caught up in another rogue spy mission?


	3. Doing the Backstroke

Chapter Three: Doing the Backstroke

**An: **I can't thank you guys enough for the kind reviews! I mean it! I know last chapter was pretty short and fluffy, but chapter three is longer but with just as much (or more) fluff. I apologize to those who are allergic to fluff. This is Chuck and Sarah's _honeymoon _people! There has to be some romance and passion!

**An2: **All of these places are 100% real. I did my research people!

Onward to Chapter Three! R&R!

* * *

**Thirty-Six Hours Earlier…**

**Panama City, Panama (Duh)**

The Intercontinental (or as the brochure on the plane christened it) La Playa Bonita Resort and Spa made ideal fodder for a postcard. It was the newest tourist attraction; nestled on a private beach and surrounded by lush tropical vegetation, it had been enchanted with an enclave of infinity pools, cascades and exotic gardens. Not only was the scenery impressive but the hotel itself was something to marvel at. White buildings that seemed to be heavily influenced by Latin architecture stretched on for miles around the Panamanian cove.

Sarah Lisa Walker-Bartowski had visited Panama on a few separate occasions during her career as a spy but none of them been like this. In the past it was strictly for business rather than pleasure. She couldn't remember a single moment where on an assignment she could embrace the natural beauty of her surroundings. It was depressing to think of how sheltered she was before she met Chuck. Now she was in a significantly different set of circumstances. It was the same place, but at least she had all the time in the world to enjoy it. And she was there for her honeymoon no less!

They arrived in Panama around noon that day. Their flight had been quick and painless as was the twenty minute drive through the nation's capital to the resort. Check-in wasn't until three o'clock which meant the newlyweds had time to kill. They decided to go explore what would be their home for the next week or so. Sarah took this opportunity to change out of her sundress and into both her and Chuck's favorite purple bikini. He had stripped down to his swim shorts as well, almost tripping because he was bouncing with excitement.

An hour later passed and Sarah was found relaxing on the soft white sand on the shores of Playa Bonita Bay. She had her towel spread out as she lounged flat on her back with eyes closed, soaking up the afternoon sun. Palm trees swayed in the warm breeze, their fruits dancing along in harmony. Waves lapped along the coast before retreating into the clear blue shallows. Sea birds chirped freely; flapping and circling around the sky, disappearing into the sun. The air smelled salty and fresh, reminiscent of the beach where she and Chuck bonded after their first date years ago.

_Speaking of Chuck_, she thought in sudden confusion, _where had he gone off to?_

Sarah sat up and pulled her sunglasses down to the tip of her noise, searching around for her lost husband. She scanned the area to see an abundance of beachgoers crowding the place to where locating Chuck would be like playing a game of _Where's Waldo?_

She sighed. A band of children raced across the beach, kicking up sand as the laughed gleefully. At first, they appeared to be just running along with each other, but on further inspection, Sarah realized they were actually being chased. Their hands were brought up to shield their heads (still giggling like maniacs) as they were being squirted with water. Not far behind them was Chuck, who was shooting the fleeing kids with a humongous water gun.

Sarah watched, not entirely surprised. Her husband was always just a big kid at heart. As the scene continued to unfold before her eyes, her amusement grew to the point where she had to intervene. She pushed to her feet and marched down to where the cool Pacific washed over her feet, making her whole body tingle. She waited for a moment until Chuck was running in her direction. She quickly stepped in front of him, blocking his path. This caused him to break; he stared at her with questioning eyes.

She crossed her arms over her chest and asked, "Having fun?"

"Hi honey," he replied sweetly.

Rolling her eyes, she stripped the toy out of his hands, pointing the plastic orange muzzle directly at his chest. The children that were hovering not far from where Sarah was standing were cheering and howling with laughter. Chuck's face turned scarlet. Sarah grinned.

"I thought you didn't like guns, Chuck."

He tried to explain: "I—I don't, and this isn't a _gun,_ it's called a Supersoaker, there's a huge difference-"

"Doesn't matter," Sarah cut him off. "I'm going to give this _toy _back to the kids. You and I are going to do grown-up things." She turned around and presented the water gun to the children. "Here you go," she said with a warm smile. A young boy nervously accepted it and muttered a small, "thank you, Ma'am," before jetting off.

Facing Chuck once again, her expression softened considerably. "I'm sorry if I wounded your ego in front of those kids" she teased him lightly, "but I was trying to prove a point."

"And what's that?" Chuck slipped his arm around her bare waist while they walked.

"Guns are bad."

Chuck stopped. "Really, guns are bad? That's sort of weird to hear coming from a CIA agent," he admitted, chuckling to himself.

Sarah punched him lightly on the shoulder and they resumed their trek back towards the resort. "I mostly just wanted you all to myself. You're a tough man to get alone, Mr. Bartowski."

"An ulterior motive!" He shouted in mock aghast. "I should've known you were up to something, Mrs. Bartowski."

Sarah felt her heart skip a beat. Taking him by the hand so that their diamond rings gleamed brilliantly under the sun, she stared into his chocolate eyes and said, "I like when you call me that."

The next step they took went from sand to cement. Chuck shot her a beaming smile and led Sarah down the glossy strip to the pools. Once they approached the largest of the five strewn about the hotel, they came to a sudden halt.

"_Mrs. Bartowski," _Chuck emphasized her new title with the wiggle of his eyebrows. It elicited a snort from Sarah. "I'd like to go get something to drink, care to place an order?"

"Surprise me," she said.

Chuck bowed, "As you wish." He kissed the top of her hand and then walked into a large crowd where he then vanished from view.

Sarah was still glowing long after he left, a dreamy look set on her face. She lowered her body half-way into the pool and took a seat on the steps, her fingers idly sliding up and down the metal pool as she waited, lost in deep thought.

An elderly woman who had been sitting on a fold-out chair saw all of this. She placed her magazine flat in her lap and asked kindly. "Was that delightful man yours, dear?"

Sarah saw the woman from the corner of her eye. Nodding, she said, "Yes, that's Chuck…my husband."

"He seems to be a keeper. Be sure not to let him go."

Her wedding ring sparkled under the pool's surface like a lost treasure. She smiled. "I won't."

* * *

The pool bar was unreal. Chuck looked at the hut-shaped pub with eyes brimming in awe. Before becoming a spy, he didn't travel much; hardly leaving the state of California unless there was some big comic convention being held somewhere relatively nearby. Even on missions he never got a chance at sightseeing, save for the time when he and Sarah both went rogue on their personal vacation across Europe. So he was totally surprised to see that the bar in question was literally floating on the pool's surface. Or at least it appeared that way.

Chuck walked unsurely up to the counter. Tourists and the locals alike were scattered around the bar; most were drinking and chatting animatedly, while others were intently watching the various plasma TVs, either throwing money at it in anger or cheering so loud that Chuck had to cup his ears. About five different soccer games, (_No, it's football, right?) _were displayed on the screens. Chuck had no clue what was happening. The announcer was commentating in Spanish—so fast that it made Chuck's head spin.

He was relieved when the bartender had come to his end of the counter. He stared at Chuck with a bored expression.

"Si?"

Chuck held up his fingers as made his best attempt at their native language: "Dos Piña Coladas, por favor."

The bartender looked unimpressed. "Bien, coming right up, señor." he said and immediately turned his back on Chuck.

While Chuck waited for the drinks to be prepared, a man pushed through the bar to take a seat on the stool next to him. He stuffed a large hand into his pocket and pulled out an equally large cigar. He lit it and then took a long drag. The smoke carried over to Chuck, who felt his eyes begin to burn.

Rubbing his eyes, he told the stranger. "Did you know smoking is bad for your health?"

_Great, now I'm starting to sound just like Casey, _Chuck thought and mentally kicked himself.

The hulking man shot him a glare. Suddenly, the sports announcer's voice yelled _GOAL_ as loud as humanly possible. The crowd gathered at the bar went into frenzy. Chuck saw the man's attention was deterred to the television screen. His gaze dropped and he became focused on the white bird that had been inked onto the man's bicep.

His eyes fluttered and a familiar sensation absorbed all of his senses. Chuck felt his heart hammer into his chest; he tried desperately to turn away but it was useless.

"No, no, no" he muttered under his breath. "Not now!"

The flash hit him like a freighter. Information passed before his eyes, telling him that the white bird he saw was really a phoenix—the call sign for the Colombian drug cartel called "El Fénix Nieve." They mainly produced marijuana, cocaine and heroin, but there had been several documented instances of selling weapons on the Black Market. Their buyers have been located in Central and South America along with the US and Mexico. The kingpin of the notorious cartel was a wealthy man named Esteban Fénix Garcia. _Proceed with extreme caution, _was printed in red ink at the bottom of Garcia's dossier.

The bartender stared at Chuck strangely, "Señor?"

_El Fénix Nieve…The Snow Phoenix, _the Intersect translated.

The flash ended and Chuck shook himself out of his stupor. He gave the bartender a sheepish smile and took the two drinks. He stole one last look at the man, no, the drug cartel solider and then felt suddenly very nauseous. Chuck thanked the bartender in a hurry, making sure to leave him a big tip.

* * *

Sarah waved at Chuck once she saw him appear out of the bar. He walked up to the pool's edge and then plopped down; letting his feet dangle into the water. Outstretching his arm he held her drink in the palm of his hand. She eyed Chuck carefully before taking it.

"Piña Coladas, Chuck? Way to live on the edge," she remarked with a teasing grin. She brought the straw to her mouth and took a sip. The sweetness of the coconut blended with the tart pineapple seamlessly, making her squeal in joy. "You need to try this. Quickly before I finish mine and steal yours," she kidded.

Usually her lighthearted nature would make Chuck laugh, or at least get him to crack a smile. But there was nothing. Sarah frowned. He had this scary distant look in his eyes. It made Sarah feel uneasy.

"What's wrong?" She asked.

Chuck blinked. "Wrong? There's nothing wrong, why would there be?" He faked a smile. "We are on our honeymoon in a modern-day paradise; nothing could possibly go wrong."

Sarah twirled the straw between her fingers. "You're rambling," she told him. "You only ramble when you're either nervous or embarrassed. So spill it, what's up?"

"It's nothing!" He insisted.

She gave him an unconvincing look. "Chuck, do you remember our rule? We do not keep secrets or lies from each other. We share _everything."_

Chuck evaded her probing eyes by concentrating on his drink. He quickly blurted out, "I flashed alright?"

"You flashed?" She repeated, "On what, who?"

"There was this man by the bar—big and scary looking. You know the stereotypical bad guy. Anyway, I flashed on his tattoo."

Sarah bit her lip like she was afraid to ask. "What was the tattoo of?"

"It was a white phoenix, very majestic if it hadn't been the call-sign for a notorious drug cartel—"

"—El Fénix Nieve," Sarah finished with a sigh.

Chuck looked up and rewarded her with an honest smile. "And there you go again with the sexy pronunciation of evil organizations that are south of the equator." He added quickly, "I'm not complaining by the way."

Sarah's cheeks reddened at his compliment. She changed the subject and said seriously, "They're dangerous Chuck. I have never dealt with them personally, but Carina has had a few run-ins with them over the years. Esteban Garcia, the cartel's kingpin, he is on the top of the DEA's watch list."

"Ok, so this guy is basically Latin America's Public Enemy number one. How do we take care of him and his posse nice and quick?"

"Chuck, we don't know if there is even anything planned," Sarah explained. "We can't do anything if there isn't enough substantial evidence to back up our claims."

"Right, that's Spy 101." he mumbled. "But what if Garcia _does _have something in the works? Do we handle him ourselves, or can we just get Carina and her DEA buddies to deal with it?"

"If anything comes up, I'll call Carina. She's more prepared to bust a drug cartel than we are at the moment."

Chuck nodded in silent agreement. He set his drink aside as he slipped into the pool till he was waist deep. His upbeat demeanor seemed to have dispersed over the course of their discussion. The smile he wore faltered, turning slowly into a miserable grimace. Sarah observed this disheartening change with sad eyes. She rested her hand onto his shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"Can't the bad guys for once just take vacations like normal people?" He asked lamely.

"I don't think so…I suppose neither can we," she answered.

Chuck gave her one last look before dunking his entire body underwater. Sarah watched as he sunk like a stone to the bottom. A moment passed and then she could have sworn she heard Chuck yell something horribly obscene from beneath the pool's surface.

* * *

**An: **Done! I felt sort of guilty for writing such a useless chapter so I'm trying to make it up to you guys with chapter three. I promise that the story will pick up next chapter, that's when the plot thickens and the spy stuff comes into play.

Here's a sneak peak at what's in store for my next update!

Chapter Four: Mr. & Mrs. Carmichael—Chuck and Sarah want to spend their honeymoon in peace, but what if that's not what fate has in store for the newlyweds? To stop a trade from becoming successful, the two must assume their spy aliases as the Carmichaels.


	4. Where the Sidewalk Ends

Chapter Four: Where the Sidewalk Ends

**An: **Thank you for the wonderful reviews, you guys are awesome! Change of plans, upon writing this chapter, I found it was going to drag on past 4,000-5,000 words so I broke it up into two separate updates.

This is some more filler but with somewhat of a cliffhanger at the end? Hopefully I can get chapter five out before New Year's Eve.

Anyway, please enjoy chapter four!

R&R!

* * *

It was three o'clock and Sarah could not have been happier or more relieved. It was finally time to escape the choking humidity and relax in the comfort of the hopefully air-conditioned hotel suite. Just the thought of snuggling beneath the covers of the cozy bed made her feel sleepy. She had spent the last couple of hours peacefully tanning under the sun while Chuck continued to sulk in that self-deprecating manner she knew he did so well. Not long after she had to literally fish him out from the bottom of the deep end, he hardly spoke unless he had been personally addressed to. Even then his responses were half-hearted and brief.

"Chuck, sweetie?" Sarah rolled over on her side and poked her husband's chest. Chuck was lying sprawled-eagled on the concrete. He was dripping wet. His chest heaved up and down, his despondent gaze focused towards the sky. "We can go to our room now."

Chuck glanced at her but refused to move. "I had an epiphany," he told her.

Sarah raised a brow, "really?"

He nodded slightly. "I have come to realization that no matter what we do or where we go, something is always going to prevent us from living normally, even if it's temporary."

"You've been thinking way too hard about this," said Sarah, who had now moved into a sitting position. She patted Chuck's stomach affectionately. "Your flash could've been just a poorly timed fluke."

Chuck propped himself up on his elbows. "It wasn't a fluke," he said resignedly. "Has it ever been?"

He was right. However, Sarah did not want to tell him any of this. She knew that Chuck would be in a foul mood for the remainder of the vacation if she were to voice her agreement on the matter. And so she simply vouched for silence. Chuck stared at her for a while, but when he saw she wasn't going to budge, he ran a hand through his damp hair and sighed.

"So what were you saying about going to our room?"

* * *

"Well, here we are," Chuck announced a few minutes later. They were both standing in front of room labeled thirteen, exchanging apprehensive looks when they recognized the unlucky number. Sarah could even see that Chuck had muttered something like; _I told you so, _under his breath.

Shifting a bag over his shoulder, Chuck scrambled to find the keycard. Once he had in on hand, he slid it through the designated slot and heard a click to signal it was unlocked. Chuck inhaled a deep breath and with closed eyes, he gripped the door's handle.

"What do you think is on the other side?" Sarah asked causally, "Ninjas or an atomic bomb?"

"Ha-ha," he laughed in a sarcastic tone. "You're enjoying this aren't you?"

"You are not exactly making it hard to do..."

The playful teasing stopped as soon as Chuck opened the door. Their eyes snapped from each other to the room, and their jaws dropped to the floor. The suite was gorgeous to say the least. The flooring was made of marble, slick as it glistened from the sun's rays. The walls were an off-white color, as well as the king-sized bed that was placed in the middle of the room like an oasis. A window separated the bedroom from the bath to create a more intimate setting; the kitchen was at the far end of the room, and resting on top of a dresser was a Hi-def television screen.

Chuck was busy drooling over the entertainment system while Sarah found herself lost with the private balcony. The blinds were drawn open to show the view: facing the ocean, she could see the outline of the Pearl Islands and the Panama Canal.

"Wow," said Chuck in wonder. He let the bags fall from his hands. "This…this is awesome."

"I really wasn't expecting this," Sarah replied truthfully.

Chuck nodded in agreement. "I guess this is what happens if you work for the federal government. You're rewarded with perks like these."

"We need to make sure that we write a big thank you card to General Beckman."

"Good idea."

They stood like this for some time. Only their eyes moved about the room, acquainting themselves with everything that La Playa Bonita had to offer. Chuck was becoming increasingly lax. He looked from the unmade bed to Sarah, and then back to the bed again. He repeated this until a wicked grin slowly worked onto his features.

"You know," he began nonchalantly. "I don't believe we ever got the chance to properly consummate our marriage on the night of the wedding, did we?"

Sarah remained conversational. "No, I don't recall there ever being any sort of consummation."

"I think we need to change that."

"What are you saying, Chuck?" She asked, but knew _exactly _what he was alluding to. The edges of her lips twitched into an eager smile.

"I'm saying you should put those bags down, Mrs. Bartowski." Swiftly, he grabbed Sarah by the waist and picked her up; carried her to the bed, but not before kicking the door shut behind them.

Chuck carefully lowered Sarah onto the bed, letting his hands linger on her slender figure. Sitting slightly up, she placed her hand on the nape of Chuck's neck, and then pulled him down into a passionate kiss. Their mouths remained glue to each others as they began to undress. Chuck rested his palm on the small of her back, yanking the strings of her bikini loose while using his other hand to support himself. As her top slipped off, leaving her tanned chest exposed, Chuck broke the kiss.

"Have I ever told you that I am the luckiest man to have ever lived?" Chuck asked softly, while staring deep into her clear blue eyes. He stroked a flushed cheek with his thumb.

"Yes," her reply was just as soft. "But it doesn't hurt to hear it every once in awhile."

"I will remember that." He said and pressed his lips onto hers, sealing the union between husband and wife once and for all.

* * *

Just like Sarah envisioned, the bed was like lying on a cloud. She and Chuck were tangled in the sheets, their naked bodies glistening with sweat as they clung onto each other for dear life. They panted while riding out the pulsating waves of pleasure. It was the late afternoon now. The sun was beginning its descent into the horizon and the sky was washed with a myriad of dazzling colors.

"Is this tempurpedic?" Chuck asked out of the blue.

Sarah shifted into the mattress, her tired eyes fixed at the ceiling. "I think so. Why?"

"We should really invest in one. Let's stop by Bed, Bath & Beyond on our way home from LAX…"

Chuck yawned as he said this. Sarah took his proposition with a grain of salt; he had a strange habit of rambling nonsensically during his post-sex haze. He could never remember what he said anyway.

"Ok, Chuck." She placated him with a kiss on the lips. "I'm going to use the shower, ok?" Untangling herself out of the covers, she slipped off the bed and stretched out her sore limbs.

Chuck sat up, watching her leave. He scratched the back of his neck, and mumbled, "A shower…why?"

Sarah paused and glanced over her shoulder. Chuck was looking at her with confused eyes. His tousled hair and all around disheveled appearance had her refrain from giggling. He remained nonplussed.

"I'd like to wash up before we go out to dinner," She explained. "You're always welcomed to come and join me, Chuck."

All his response consisted of was a whiny moan. "Wouldn't you rather just stay in bed for the rest of the night?"

"While that _is _tempting, no," Sarah answered briskly. As she disappeared into the bathroom, her voice echoed. "I expect you to be ready to leave by the time I'm dressed, Chuck."

Chuck flopped onto the bed and groaned. The last thing on his mind was to leave the room. He wasn't even hungry—

A loud gurgling sound came straight from his stomach. His hand rested on his empty belly and cursed its improbable timing. "Damn you…"

**

* * *

**

**An Hour Later…**

Sarah exited the bathroom feeling rejuvenated. Closing the door behind her, she saw that Chuck hadn't moved an inch. He sat crossed-legged on the bed (but somehow managed to change into one of his CIA issued suits) with a game controller in hand as well as a headset sitting on his mop of curls. He was staring blankly at the TV screen, and Sarah was sure he did not even notice her arrival.

"Buddy, I wish you could see this place." He spoke through the microphone attached to his head, paused, and then burst out laughing. "Yeah, well I think Sarah wouldn't appreciate another person joining us on what's supposed to be an intimate getaway. But that was a nice try."

It did not take a genius to figure out who he was talking to. Sarah did not know how long Chuck would be incapacitated for, so she took the allotted time to gather up the luggage and begin to unpack. Just as she picked up the first bag and set it on the bed, Chuck pressed the pause button and the game froze instantly.

"Hey, Morgan, I think I need to go," Chuck told the bearded man through the receiver. He was busy staring at Sarah, who had stopped removing clothes from the luggage and just glared. "The wife is looking at me like she might do physical harm…Yes I'll tell her. See ya." He took off the headset and smiled sheepishly. "Morgan said you looked marvelous today in your bikini."

"What—how does he know?"

Chuck pulled an IPhone from out of his pants pocket. The background image displayed on the screen was of him and Sarah; he was carrying her bridal style on the shores of the beach. Some nice couple took the picture, right before Chuck thought it'd be hilarious to run them both into the crashing waves.

Sarah was brought to the present by the sound of Chuck's voice. "I posted the picture on Facebook. I promised Ellie and everyone back home that I'd chronicle our misadventures by putting them up on the internet for the world to see."

"How is everybody?" Sarah asked.

"Same old, same old," he shrugged. "Ellie and Awesome have yet to get any sleep because Stephanie keeps waking up in the middle of the night. Morgan and Alex are babysitting, but Ellie has continued her strict policy that anyone with a beard cannot hold her daughter without full parental supervision. Let's see, what else? Casey, he's been his normal grouchy self. I think since we're gone, he can't go on any missions until Team Bartowski is back together. Morgan said that it's driving him crazy and that his trigger finger is starting to itch again…" Chuck stopped rambling once he truly looked at Sarah, his brain momentarily fizzing out. "Uh, you look stunning."

Sarah beamed. Blonde curls framed her bronze complexion, bouncing freely off her shoulders. She had chosen to wear a short but conservative dress. It barely went passed her knees and hugged perfectly to the curves of her body. It was a soft shade of red that brought out the color of her eyes. It was also Chuck's favorite, but these days whatever she wore (or didn't wear) had been proclaimed his favorite.

"Thanks for the compliment, are you ready to go?" She said, changing the subject.

Chuck swallowed and composed himself. He pushed off the bed, his eyes following the subtle movements of Sarah's body like he was in a trance. He lifted a finger to tuck an errant curl behind her ear, and then settled his hands on her hips. "Are you sure you don't want to just skip dinner?" He asked in a sultry tone.

"We made reservations," Sarah argued. He pressed his lips onto her bare neck and kissed a trail down to her collarbone. She closed her eyes, fighting back the urge to succumb to his advances. "Chuck…"

He raised his head, brown eyes sparkling with mischief. "Yes, Sarah?"

Using all of the restraint she possessed, Sarah pulled away. "Let's go, I don't want to be late."

Chuck nodded, trying hard to mask his disappointment. He took her hand in his and gave her a flirtatious wink. "Ok, fine," he conceded. "But you're not getting out of this that easy."

"I never expected to."

"Challenge accepted then."

Chuck gave her a lovable Bartowski grin, to which she returned. They shared a brief kiss and then they were off.

* * *

The restaurant was named The Lighthouse. Chuck thought it was appropriate consider there was a giant lighthouse not too far from where they sat. They arrived around seven in the evening; the sun had already set and the sky had turned to a purplish black hue. Millions of stars glittered above them, as was the moon that hung big and full. It was the ideal romantic environment. Chuck had to thank Sarah for convincing him to leave the room for this…

He lifted his glass filled with wine to make a toast. "To my beautiful wife, who makes me believe that each day is just as perfect as the next. I hope we can share more moments like these together for the rest of our lives. It's just you and me—no CIA, no Buy More, and no spy missions to disturb us."

"Agreed," Sarah nodded.

They clinked their glasses together and drank.

"So," began Sarah as she swirled the red wine round in the glass, "do you have any special plans set-up for our honeymoon, or will this be a spontaneous vacation?"

Chuck suddenly became very animated. "We can do practically anything here, it's so versatile! Like for example, we can snorkel, surf, river raft, bird watch—"

Sarah laughed. "Bird watch, really?"

Chuck mocked seriousness. "There are over nine-hundred and fifty different bird species found in Panama alone. My one goal in life—after marrying you of course, was to see them all."

"That wasn't in the Intersect, was it?"

No," he grinned. "That was just a nerd doing what a nerd does best: researching about obscure facts."

Taking a sip of her wine, Sarah replied. "I think you missed your true calling."

"Yeah, what's that?"

"Travel guide."

Chuck belted out a hearty laugh. Sarah joined. The sound of his merriment was too contagious to resist. Her laughter died when she caught something worrisome from the corner of her eye. Sitting across from them were two men, one was Hispanic while the other seemed to be European. The aforementioned man had a satchel slung over his chair; his companion eyed it intently.

"Hey, Chuck?" She tried to get his attention.

"Yeah?" He replied. He was busy looking over the menu, his eyes scanning over the items. "Do you know what you're going to order? I think the lobster looks to be a good choice, or maybe the sirloin steak, damn there are so many options…"

Sighing exasperatedly, Sarah kicked her husband under the table with the heel of her stiletto. Chuck jumped, yelping in pain. "Ouch! What the hell!" He shot Sarah an irritated look, but then realized that something was amiss. He lowered his voice to a whisper, "What's up?"

"Tell me if that man sitting at your three o'clock is who you flashed on."

Chuck slowly turned his head to the right. His eyes grew twice in size. It was him. He saw part of the tattoo sticking out from the man's shirt. Gulping, he looked back to Sarah. His face went sickly pale.

"Yes."

The men were involved in a heated discussion. They spoke in low voices, speaking Spanish. Chuck tried picking up on it, tried even to flash, but found that his emotions had been compromised. He began to fidget in his seat, nervously playing with the Governor still strapped to his wrist.

"What are they saying?" he asked after a pause. He knew that Sarah was fluent in over a dozen languages.

"They're discussing terms…"

"Terms for what exactly?"

Sarah strained her ears and then said, "How they can make an exchange between thirty billion Colombian Pesos and whatever is in that satchel."

Chuck almost choked on his wine. He spluttered, "D-did you just say thirty _billion _pesos?"

"It's only about fifteen million US dollars. Don't freak out," she advised him, her eyes still concentrating on the men's conversation.

She barely overheard Chuck's sarcastic comment: "And fifteen million dollars isn't a lot of money these days?"

Chuck watched her retrieve her purse and take out her phone. His expression became skeptical. "What are you doing?" He asked anxiously.

"I need to get a picture of those men and the satchel so I can send it to Carina." Her eyes fell onto him. "You didn't want to get involved right?"

"Right, but…"

This was way too dangerous. Sarah was going to get noticed and then who knew what would happen. Those men would probably try and kill him and Sarah without batting an eye. If she was going to stop these men (even indirectly) it was better to have a plan first. Chuck sighed. This was supposed to be a week without espionage.

_All good things must come to an end, _he thought with regret. _No matter how short they are._

Chuck placed a hand on top of the phone and gave Sarah a furtive look.

"I think I have a better idea."

* * *

**An: **Dun dun dunnnnnn! What is Chuck's genius plan? Now things are going to get action-packed, I swear! Until I see you next time!

Chapter Five: Mr. & Mrs. Carmichael (For real!)


	5. Mr & Mrs Carmichael

Chapter Five: Mr. & Mrs. Carmichael

**An: **As always, thanks for the reviews! I am going on a little trip from Jan 3rd to the 8th back to my hometown to visit some friends, so this is the last update for awhile because I won't be taking my laptop with me.

This chapter is where the plot thickens. You'll meet some knew original characters. Some you might sympathize with and others you'll want a bullet between their eyes. I wrote this one pretty quickly, so all of the errors you find are my own.

On another note, I am putting more Spanish in the story, and I haven't taken a class since high school so I'm rusty. I apologize in advanced for my ineptitude. Translations will be added at the end of the chapter.

Enjoy reading and R&R!

***Update 1/8/11: **I've been away from my laptop for awhile due to my vacation, but I found some errors in this chapter as well as general crappiness. So I edited it to flow better and it is highly adivsed to read it since I added some more detail.

* * *

Elias Diego was a soldier, not a businessman. He had been hired by Señor Garcia for that sole purpose. His job was to secure the cartel's livelihood at any cost and he did just that. He was one of the most feared men in Central America because of his dedication. He did not speak. He listened and never questioned an order. Whatever the objective was (whether it'd be assassination or playing bodyguard) he would complete it without hesitation.

This time was no different. Señor Garcia had sent him to Panama City with strict instructions. Elias came with the essentials—only a firearm and switchblade for protection; both were concealed underneath his clothes, and then a single beige satchel that remained on his person at all times. He had not been informed on the contents of the bag, but he learned that sometimes living in the dark was the better choice in the end. Knowing too much would complicate things. It could get him killed. That was something neither he nor his superiors could afford.

It was relatively late in the evening when Elias first arrived to the restaurant. It was just as busy as he anticipated. This was good. Tonight he was presumably going to rendezvous with the consultant of the supposed buyer. Their meeting was just a formality. To make sure they could trust each other; that the funds to be transferred to Señor Garcia's account were in check, and that the satchel was present. If anything went awry, Elias was determined to take care of it. That's why he had originally been chosen for this assignment. When there were signs of trouble, he dealt in lead. Problems seemed to resolve themselves that way.

Elias pulled up a chair at the table that had been specifically reserved for him and one other. He waited patiently for the consultant's arrival. His dark eyes roamed the immediate area, stopping to settle on a particularly young couple that had been seated not far from him. Their wine glasses were raised high as they began to laugh cheerfully. Elias recognized that the man sitting with the gorgeous blonde woman was that gűero* he had met at the bar earlier that day. Elias grunted distastefully when he watched them kiss. He checked his watch, his patience growing thin.

The consultant eventually did show up several minutes later. He was European; tall with translucent skin, blue eyes and wavy blond hair. A pair of black horned-rimmed glasses framed his crooked features. Elias corrected his posture when he was finally joined at the table.

"Hola, sus Elias, no?" He began with an off-putting smile. *

Elias was mildly surprised. The man knew Spanish fairly well. There was only a slight trace something sinister in his voice.

"Si," he nodded in reply. "Ahora, podemos discutir los terminos de este intercambio?"*

The man leaned over the table with his hands firmly clasped together. The candles flickered, turning his face ghostly pale. His mouth twisted into an impish grin.

"Ah, eager aren't we?" He spoke low, taking on a noticeable Russian accent. "Weren't you going to at least ask me my name before we continue tonight's exquisite dining experience?"

Elias did not respond. He found that he immediately did not like this man, nor did he trust him. In fact, he felt the sudden urge to draw his gun and kill the bastard where he stood. The Russian noted the cold silence and merely sighed, rolling his eyes in a very melodramatic manner. He adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat.

"You may call me Mr. Gusev," he formally introduced himself. "It appears that I have something for your boss."

He nonchalantly dropped his blackberry phone onto the table. Elias studied it intently; Gusev stroked his finger across the touch screen, and a stream of information appeared.

"Que significa esto?" Elias asked in puzzlement. *

"This means there is just over thirty billion Colombian pesos ready to be transferred to your boss's account," Gusev declared brightly. "And all of this can come to fruition if I can account for the _other _half of our deal. I am sure you know exactly what I am talking about, mi amigo?"

Elias placed a hand over the satchel. "Si," he said. "I have it."

"Wonderful, now may I see it?"

He pulled the satchel's strap over his head and the placed the bag on top of the table. "Here it is." He watched carefully for any telling signs of devious behavior. One arm reached behind his back for the gun just in case.

Just as Mr. Gusev was going to take the satchel for inspection, Elias saw from the corner of his eye that the couple he had been watching earlier were missing. His brows furrowed in suspicion, but eased once spotting the man and woman. They were walking hand-in-hand towards his table. Elias released his grip on the gun as they made their approach.

"Hi, I mean—hola!" The blonde woman was the first to speak. She had this heavenly voice that reminded Elias of the bell chimes that donned back in Mexico City. Flipping a strand of hair away from her face, she continued. "Charles and I were just talking about how beautiful the ocean looks tonight and we were wondering whether it'd be rude to ask for either of you to take our picture by the lighthouse?" When 'Charles' wasn't paying attention, she surreptitiously gave Elias a flirty wink. Elias rubbed the back of his neck when he felt his cheeks redden. While he did not appreciate being distracted from the objective at hand, he found it prudent to remain inconspicuous among the tourists.

That, and Elias thought that it'd be near impossible to say no to this woman. She was like staring into the sun. He blinded her.

"A'right, I'll do it." He proclaimed abruptly. Mr. Gusev looked surprised but said nothing. Elias made sure to grab the satchel and hang it on the chair before standing up. He pointed at the couple curiously, "You two are married?"

The blonde woman giggled and it was obvious that she had a little too much to drink. Lifting her hand, she wiggled her finger to show a medium-sized diamond resting on top of a golden band. "We're on our honeymoon," she explained. "I'm Sarah and this is Charles of course. We're the Carmichaels."

"I hope you are having a decent time here?"

Charles Carmichael interjected happily, "I'ts been the best week of our lives."

Gusev rolled his eyes and sneered. "Would you please just take their picture already? Time is of the essence."

"Oh, were we interrupting something?" Charles asked, and his wife sobered up. "I didn't intend to bother either of you, if you want we'll just be on our way-"

"No," Elias said quickly. "It'll be fine."

Sarah Carmichael retrieved her IPhone from her purse and handed it to Elias. "Can we go over by the lighthouse?" She asked him. "I think that will make a gorgeous shot, don't you agree, honey?" She looked to her husband, who gave her an endearing smile. Elias felt something was amiss between the newlyweds but disregarded it.

"Let me just take this jacket off," Charles removed the article of clothing and tossed it over Elias' chair. "I'm burning up out here."

"I told you to dress lighter Charlie baby," teased his wife.

Charles' eyes glinted with amusement as he pulled Sarah beside him and planted a kiss on her temple. He muttered, "and I told you not to wear anything at all."

Elias listened to the Carmichaels' playful bickering the rest of the way to the lighthouse. He could not help but to feel stupid for thinking that these people could be anything more than a couple of bright-eyed tourists.

* * *

**Later...**

By no means did Elias think of himself as a professional photographer. But after spending just five minutes by the lighthouse with the blonde-Sarah Carmichael, he briefly considered switching professions. With her hair that seemed to glow beneath the pale moonlight and her blue eyes that shone like sapphires...he felt utterly lost. Elias caught the suspicious glare sent by her husband but thought nothing of it. If it came to a fight, he could take the guero down.

"Enjoy the rest of your dinner," Elias told the couple once they returned to the restaurant. He handed the IPhone to Sarah, staring at her until he was sidetracked by Charles, who was now holding out his hand.

"You too."

They shook respectively and exchanged long looks. Charles then turned to his wife. "Would you go grab my jacket? I think I left it at this man's table."

Sarah Carmichael dutifully claimed the jacket and rushed back to her husband's side. She waved to Elias, "Thank you for the picture...?"

"Elias."

There was another wink, "Elias."

The Carmichaels went back to their table without another word. Elias sighed, then took a seat. He saw that Gusev was glaring at him.

"What was that?"

Elias took sip from his beer. "What was what?"

Gusev narrowed his eyes before giving up entirely. "Now, where were we?"

"The satchel," Elias mentioned half-heartedly. He reached an arm for where he had last placed the bag but swiped at thin air. Frowning, he looked under the table and then searched himself. He could not find the satchel anywhere. His eyes widened when the sudden realization hit.

Everything made sense now.

"Dammit!"

"Where's the satchel Elias?"

Elias glanced over his shoulder. The table where the Carmichaels had dined was now empty. He felt anger well up inside of him; drew his gun and cocked it back, flicking the saftey off. That blonde deity, that beautiful woman, she...she played him. That bitch!

He growled out, "tell your boss that we are going to need to reschedule."

* * *

**And so...**

"You have it?"

"Of course I do."

Chuck grinned at his wife. Sarah unfolded the jacket to reveal the satchel saftely nestled in-between the material. The two had escaped the restaurant with ease and were now heading back to their room.

Throwing an arm over her shoulder, Chuck exclaimed proudly."Mr. and Mrs. Carmichael have done it again!"

Sarah laughed as they ascended up the stairs to the first floor. They walked briskly untill they approached the room numbered thirteen.

"Not such bad luck after all, huh?" He quipped. Taking the keycard out of his pocket, he slid it through slot and they entered the suite.

Sarah flicked on the lights and tossed the satchel on the counter. Chuck kicked off his shoes, flopping onto the bed as he began to unbutton his shirt. He watched Sarah out of keen interest. She was staring at the bag with her lips pressed into a thin line.

"I think before we make our next move, we should celebrate first." Chuck broke the silence. He sat up, loosening the tie until it slipped off his neck. "What do you think?" He asked after a pause.

"We need to find out what's inside."

Chuck sighed. He knew that it was best to think like a spy, but he really just wanted to relax like a normal human being. "Can't it wait?"

Sarah shook her head. "The longer we wait, the more of chance that we can be caught—"

"But we gave those guys an alias; they can't possibly track us down to our room…" Chuck closed his mouth when Sarah shot him a dark look. He hung his head and sauntered over to where she stood. "Fine. Let's see what we got."

Sarah cautiously opened the flap of the satchel and reached a hand inside. Her bright eyes betrayed her sudden confusion. Chuck leaned over her, nonplussed.

"What is it?"

Sarah inhaled a sharp breath before empting the bag. Chuck raised a peculiar brow.

"A bible?" He said dubiously. Taking the book from Sarah, he set it down and looked it over from cover-to-cover.

"It can't just be a bible. Flip through the pages, there must be something more."

Chuck did as he was told. He turned page after page until he stopped when he saw something unusual.

Sarah noticed his hesitance and her voice was strained with apprhension, "Chuck?"

"They cut out a portion of the book to hide this," he picked up a vial containing what appeared to be-

"-Cocaine?" Sarah blurted unexpectedly. She suddenly looked slightly deflated.

Chuck inspected it closer. He twisted the vial around, his eyes landing on a strange marking. It was a label. Just then, he was caught off guard by a powerful flash. Thousands of disturbing images flew by his eyes, ingraining into his memeoy. After it receded, Chuck stumbled backwards and almost dropped the vial. He blinked furiously while Sarah waited anxiously for him to recover.

"It's a toxic agent," he receited the Intersect's data. "It was developed by some rogue Venezuelan scientist back in 2008, its codename was Blacklight. It's basically a deadly virus that was turned into an even deadlier weapon. If it's released into the air, everyone in a five mile radius is immediately infected. The incubation period is around two hours. Victims suffer from hemorrhaging, blindness, skin abscesses and then finally death." Chuck looked worriedly at Sarah. "Why would a cartel have this in their possession? This isn't a drug, it's a weapon."

Sarah did not know what to tell him. She bit her lip, knowing exactly what she had to do.

"We need to call Casey."

* * *

**Castle**

**Burbank, California**

John Casey was bored to death. He had been spending most of his time stuck in Castle, either filling out paperwork or cleaning every single gun stocked up in the underground base. Currently, he was sitting in the conference room. A sniper rifle sat on the table, dissembled and ready to be put back together. Casey was about to begin, but was interrupted by the sound of his phone vibrating in his pocket.

He grunted. _This better be a mission._

"Casey, its Sarah!"

Casey raised a brow. "Aren't you supposed to be shacked-up in your room with Bartowski for a week?"

Walker dismissed his comment. "Chuck flashed on a Colombian drug cartel, El Fénix Nieve. They were in the process of trying to sell a dangerous weaponized virus—"

"This happened at the place you're staying at?" Casey interrupted with a smirk.

"Yes," and Walker sounded annoyed by this. "Anyway, we managed to intercept the weapon."

Casey suddenly brightened up at this. "You're at Panama City, correct?"

"About twenty minutes out, why?"

"You need to take this thing to US soil immediately. In Panama City there's a US Embassy. Get there ASAP." Casey explained sternly. "Got that, Walker?"

He heard her sigh and realized that she must've known this was going to be asked of her. "Got it," she finally replied.

The phone clicked and there was a dial tone.

Casey sat in Castle for a moment, thinking to himself. His eyes concentrated on the rifle and he assembled it quickly. Holding it in his hands, he cocked it back and smiled at the sound. Maybe after he called General Beckman, he could join his team to take down those drug-dealing bastards.

Then he could finally be cured of this damn itchy finger.

* * *

After Sarah ended the call, she immediately pulled up a GPS of Panama City. She studied the route from the resort to the Embassy carefully. It wasn't until Chuck asked her what the plan was did she meet his deer in the headlight-like eyes. Whatever the Intersect had shown him during the flash really did seem to have freaked him out. Sarah wished to comfort him but knew there was no time. Elias and possibly others were going to be on their way.

"Casey said to go to the US Embassy in Panama City," Sarah explained. "And I agree with him."

Chuck nodded. Suddenly, there was a loud banging at the door. Sarah flinched whhen Chuck nearly jumped into the air. She covered his mouth before he could make a sound. When the knocking ceased, Sarah let her hand drop slowly. Chuck began gasping for breath, his eyes wide and glossy with fear.

"Please let that be that cleaning lady."

"Stay put, Chuck." Sarah instructed softly. "I'll go check."

She quietly made her way to the end of the suite where a large window was located. The blinds were luckily drawn closed; spreading them open slightly, Sarah peered into the darkness to find Elias waiting at their doorstep. He was preoccupied with twisting a silencer on his gun's muzzle. Sarah craned her neck to Chuck, who seemed to be dreading for an answer.

"It's him," she said. "It's Elias."

"Crap! Sarah, please say you happened to have packed a gun in your suitcase?"

Sarah moved away from the window, "No," she said defensively. "Why would I?"

I don't know! You're a spy! You _always _have one!"

"And you're not a spy?" Sarah hissed angrily. "Don't blame this on me! I didn't expect this to happen on my honeymoon!"

Chuck said indignatly. "Well neither did I!"

There was another, much more aggressive thump this time. The Bartowskis both went silent but still glared harshly at each other.

_"Open the door, ahora!"_

I'll take care of him alright?" Sarah said this as she stripped off her stilettos and added, "You just stay here and open the door."

"So in this plan, I'm basically the magnet?" Chuck said flatly.

"No, I like to think of you as the diversion."

Sarah heard him snort as she worked on unlatching the window ajar.

"Just trust me, Chuck," she told him exasperatedly. Before he could retort, Sarah had stealthily climbed out of the window, leaving Chuck alone.

"Well here goes nothing," he spoke aloud.

Chuck braced himself as he walked to the door. He felt a flash loom behind his eyes, just beyond his reach. If his body was harmed in any way, he knew that the Intersect had his back. Chuck grabbed the doorknob and wrenched it open. He was met with the barrel of a gun pressed into his forehead.

"Where the _fuck _is the satchel?" Elias seethed.

Chuck held his hands up in quick surrender. In the blackness he could see Sarah's faint outline as she crept deftly behind Elias. Her arms snaked around his neck, restricting his movement. As he thrashed, she thrust the heel of her stiletto into his jugular. He roared with anger and almost tossed Sarah off his back. Chuck narrowed his eyes when a flash possessed him. He smirked and threw a nasty right hook into Elias' face, crushing his nose into oblivion and sending him to the ground with a resounding thud.

_That's for oggling my wife. _

Sarah walked barefoot inside of the suite, dropping a bloody stiletto to the ground. Panting, she sent Chuck a grateful look.

"Nice punch,"she remarked.

"I do what I can," Chuck wisecracked. He looked at the unconscious body. "Is he dead?"

Sarah shook her head. "No, which is why we need to get changed and hurry to the Embassy before he wakes up."

"How do we get there?"

"I found the coordinates on our GPS," Sarah replied while she began searching Elias; rolling to her feet she now had a gun and switchblade in hand. Chuck rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. This was unbelievable.

"It really feels like we're in the middle of some top-secret assignment rather than our honeymoon."

Sarah lifted her gaze to his. "It's not that bad. We've been in worse situations before, Chuck."

"I just can't wrap my head around why it had to be us? Why not Casey? I know he's been wanting to blow something up for awhile now."

"It has to be us because there is no one else," she explained truthfully. "We are the best, Chuck. I understand that this is our honeymoon, but there are bigger things going on than just us."

Sarah was completely right. Chuck shut his mouth and wordlessly got changed into something more comfortable for the journey ahead-a pair of jeans, dark shirt, and his Converse. He watched as his wife slipped out of her dress, letting it pool to her feet. Now she was fully clothed in shorts, a tank top and a jacket. Once tying the laces of her hiking boots, she turned around and gave Chuck a wary smile. Sarah Bartowski was gone. She had now been replaced by Agent Walker.

It took Chuck Bartowski over four years to realize that a spy's life did not have a pause button. Nothing was temporary and sometimes you just had to roll with the punches. Before he knew it, he had stuffed the bible into the satchel; slung it over his shoulder, trading one last look of longing with Sarah before dashing out of the room one final time. When the door slammed behind him, he was met with a world surrounded by darkness.

He sighed.

The honeymoon was officially over.

* * *

*1. Gűero: It literally means "white-boy."

*2. Hello, it's Elias, right?

*3. Yes, can we now discuss terms for this exchange?

*4. What does this mean?

**An: **That quite frankly wasn't my favorite chapter to write. I blame it on the New Year's obligatory hangover. Next Chapter sadly won't come out for possibly two weeks. If you're wondering about the virus, I have based it on several things: 1. The name "Blacklight" is from the videogame, Prototype. 2. It's a combination of the Superflu from Stephen King's The Stand, and the Cordilla Virus from season 3 of 24.

Chapter Six: Waiting to Exhale


	6. Waiting To Exhale

Chapter Six: Waiting to Exhale

**An: **Loyal readers I have returned. I know, I know, it has been more than two weeks, but I swear I have a very good explanation for my absence! 1) I had writer's block. 2) I got addicted to playing Mass Effect 2 and wouldn't quit until I beat the game. 3.) College started back up and I had some _issues _with my roommate. 4.) Chuck came back, 'nuff said.

But here is the latest chapter nonetheless. I'm not entirely happy with it, but I never really am. I am sorry in advanced for the Chuck/Sarah abuse. It's not like I _mean _to hurt them per se…

**An2: **I also did update Chapter Five again, in case anyone cares. I corrected a lot of mistakes mostly for my benefit.

All of my mistakes are my own, as well as stupid plot devices because I'm not perfect!

Enjoy the chapter and R&R!

* * *

It was hard to believe that they were able to leave the hotel undetected. Complications both began and ended with having to deal with the unconscious mercenary they had locked up in their room. Besides that, their escape had been flawless. Chuck found that particularly odd because there was no such thing as a foolproof plan. He knew that better than almost anyone. So as he approached the rusted green jeep, his mind was continuing to mull over these worrisome thoughts. Sarah beckoned him to hurry up before they were noticed, and he obliged, but did so in the same distracted fashion. He entered from the passenger's side while Sarah took the wheel. The engine sputtered, then gurgled to life. Chuck then busied himself by staring out into the vast darkness.

They drove for awhile and neither of them spoke. Each was consumed with their own thoughts. Sarah was fixed with the road ahead of her, not to be diverted by Chuck, who had been leaning against the window. His shallow breath fogged up the glass while fingers involuntarily fidgeted with the strap crossed over his chest. Only the persistent beeping of the GPS nestled in-between them damanged the pregnant silence.

At last Chuck mumbled. "Well, this is unusually boring. I was almost expecting there to be _some_ sort of gunfight before leaving the hotel."

They were fast approaching an intersection and the jeep began to reduce its speed. It rolled up to where the stoplight blinked red. A large crowd walked across the street. Chuck watched the pedestrians pass by with a bored look on his face. He stifled a yawn; turned to see that Sarah was impatiently tapping the steering wheel.

"That's not going to make the light change any faster," he remarked tiredly. "You should relax."

Sarah shot him a glare. "I am relaxed," she retorted with a scowl. Chuck snorted in disbelief. "Look," sighing, she momentarily closed her eyes to compose herself, "Don't you think it's sort of weird that we didn't see any of Garcia's men—?"

"Yeah it is weird." He paused, looking contemplative. "I wonder if they're following us."

"I don't know…maybe. We can't let our guard down either way."

Chuck nodded to agree, "You're right." The light finally turned green and the jeep lurched forward. He peered absently through the side mirror and added with a soft chuckle, "constant vigilance!" *

Sarah blinked, not quite understanding what he found so humorous. She shrugged off her confusion and focused back to navigating through the congested streets. A tiny smile did however appear to be tugging at her lips. She advised, "just keep an eye out, Chuck."

He mock saluted, "Yes Ma'am." His gaze traveled from hers to the passenger's mirror. Beyond its dark veil were bright lights and loud music. He hummed to the melody; brows slowly knitting together when he caught something peculiar from the corner of his eye. Chuck pushed out of his seat to get a better look. A safe distance behind them was a motorcycle. Its rider (whose helmet hid his entire face) seemed to have been following them for the last mile or so. His gloved hand was reaching around his waistband—

"Sarah, I think we got company."

Blue eyes flickered up to the rearview mirror, narrowed into slits and then the jeep suddenly leapt with sudden urgency. Nearly crashing into another car in the lane over, Sarah quickly swerved around the traffic, ignoring the blatant honking, rude gestures and the vile obscenities which were being directed at her. Chuck felt his body jerk with great force; the seatbelt restraining him from flying into the dashboard had dug into his chest, making him gasp in pain.

"Ah," he wheezed. It took him a while to catch his breath—both literally and figuratively. "What, what was that? Are you trying to get us both killed?"

"I was trying to see whether we're being followed or not," came the stoic response and Agent Walker was back once again.

Chuck glanced over his shoulder to see that Sarah's reckless driving had not deterred the motorcyclist from pursing them.

"He's still there."

"I know."

They were approaching another intersection. The light switched from a series of colors to finally settle on red. Chuck waited for Sarah to apply the brakes, but he felt the opposite effect. The engine rumbled and pushed its acceleration. Clearly, she had no intention of stopping.

Chuck quickly braced himself. Sarah punched the gas pedal. The jeep flew down the street and into oncoming traffic. Cars screeched to a halt while some smashed into each other. But the motorcyclist remained on their tail; simply maneuvering around the carnage while revealing a gun clutched in his free hand.

The muzzle of the gun flashed. Chuck reacted first. He grabbed Sarah by the arm and pulled her out of way. The rear window exploded into shattered glass. With one hand still gripping the wheel, the jeep made a sharp turn and skidded along the pavement. Sarah managed to regain control; the jeep veered off to the right and straight into a side-street crawling with people.

Chuck bolted upright in his seat, shaking the tiny shards of glass out of his hair. More bullets ripped into the jeep's frame. It sent a sinking feeling deep in his chest.

"Fuck," he grimaced. "Well there goes our deposit on the rental."

Sarah rolled her eyes. "The car is the last thing you should be worrying about."

"Hey, I'm not trying to start a fight in the middle of a car chase," Chuck countered defensively. "Keep your eyes on the road."

She scoffed. "Oh right, because i'm in charge of everything."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Sarah opened her mouth to reply, but was interrupted by a cool female voice. "_You are now approaching your destination."_

Brown and blue eyes were drawn to the GPS. The little red dot displayed on the screen had stopped moving. It was now stagnant to signal their arrival. Chuck pulled away from the IPhone to see that the Embassy was literally right in front of them. Its property was barricaded behind a gate; an American and Panamanian flag swayed in the breeze.

He heard Sarah breathe a sigh of relief.

"I'm sorry for biting your head off like that," she announced and offered him an apologetic smile. "You were right. I guess I am stressed."

"It's ok, neither of us has been on a mission in awhile. We're a bit rusty."

Chuck wanted to reach out and reassure her with a kiss, hug, or _something,_ but knew there just wasn't enough time. The jeep drove up to the front gate surrounding the Embassy. A single guard approached them, his eyes darting from the battered car to the married couple.

He raised his eyebrows. "What in the hell?"

"Hola," Chuck said with a tentative smile. "I believe you've been expecting us, sorry we were late. Traffic was murder."

The guard shook his head incredulously. "Who are you?"

Chuck blinked. He exchanged bewildered glances with Sarah who just shrugged helplessly.

"You mean you didn't…?" Chuck paused and then started over. "I'm Agent Charles Carmichael, and this is my partner, Agent Sarah Walker from the CIA. We have an important piece of intelligence that we need to get inside of the Embassy."

The guard eyed him up and down, "If I don't see some identification right now I will force you both to leave the premises immediately."

Chuck gave him a fake smile, "sure thing, just hold on a sec." He faced Sarah, who was fuming with contempt. "We don't have our CIA credentials do we?"

"No, we don't," she replied through grit teeth. "And I do not have time for this."

"What do you propose we do then?"

A scary look suddenly overcame Sarah. Chuck swallowed thickly; she leaned over the side of the window. "Sir, would you please try contacting the head of security please?" She asked kindly, and even batted her eyelashes for good measure.

"Where's your ID, miss?" The guard asked undeterred.

The barrel of a gun was now aimed between his eyes. The guard turned sickly pale. Sarah held it unwaveringly, and said in a deathly low voice, "There is currently somebody chasing after my partner and I. They want us dead. We've been running for the entire night and I'm tired. And when i'm tired I get a little trigger-happy. So forgive me if I don't want to suffer through this bureaucratic bullshit and unload an entire clip into your brain. If you value your life at all I suggest you open the damn gate before my finger just happens to slip and—"

There was a deafening boom and then everything went silent. Chuck jumped back in his seat. The guard conveyed a look of great surprise. He slapped his hand above his right eye, like a man who has remembered something of vital importance just a little too late. Blood trickled from beneath his palm and then he collapsed onto the ground.

"Sarah…" Chuck whispered in horrified awe. "Did you just…?"

But she looked just as shocked as he was and Chuck instantly knew it couldn't be true. If she hadn't killed the guard than who had? There was another burst of gunfire and Chuck decided that he'd learn soon enough. They took cover inside of the jeep, waiting for the bombardments to end.

A voice bellowed: "Get out of the car and show yourselves! Bring the satchel and no one else will have to die tonight!"

The spies exited the bullet-riddled jeep with their hands held high in surrender. The motorcyclist stood across from them, gun raised in a threatening manner. His helmet had been removed to reveal a white phoenix tattooed over his face. He eyed Chuck and then to the satchel, his lip curled upward into a dog-like snarl.

"You thought you could just go and run away, huh?" The man sneered. "What kind of idiots do you take us for?"

"Was that a rhetorical question?" Chuck asked, but received a warning look from Sarah and went mute.

The man saw this exchanged and snickered. "Get over here, white boy."

Chuck stepped forward, glowering at the fiend. "Now hand over the satchel," was the order. He gave one last look to Sarah before resigning himself; removed the strap and held the bag in front of him like it was bait. "Is that nice piece of ass yours?" The man trained the gun on Sarah and grinned wickedly.

His gaze hardened but his expression remained impassive. The man saw the subtle anger festering in Chuck's demeanor was fueled by this knowledge. Sarah looked on troubled.

"She's quite beautiful isn't she," the man's voice turned sinister. "I'm thinking after I put a bullet in your head, my boss will let me keep her. I bet she has a great—" he never got to finish.

There was something utterly primal in the way Chuck moved. It was graceful and fluid and Sarah was convinced that it could not have been the work of the Intersect. Chuck was like a blur, knocking the gun astray to only grab the satchel, wrapping the strap around the man's throat; twisting it with enough pressure to have him buckle to his knees. Fingers clawed for reprieve. Sarah watched in complete shock when he showed the whites of his eyes as they rolled into the back of his head.

As much as the bastard deserved it, she could not let Chuck take his life. Her husband's innocence was more important than some mercenary's liviehood. And so she ran towards him; grabbing both of his arms and tried desperately to intervene. At first, he wouldn't budge. There was rage buried in his dark eyes. Sarah wondered if the man had goaded Chuck into attacking him. Then his hold began to slacken and she was able to pull him away.

"Chuck, he's not worth it," she pleaded. "Let's just call General Beckman and we can get inside of the Embassy. Just let go of him!"

Chuck slowly lifted his head and all of the ferocity dissipated in his eyes. His breathing slowed significantly and he released the satchel, letting the man fall flat on his face. He looked to Sarah, first confused but then guilt and shame were written across his features.

"I—I didn't mean too," he tried to explain. "He was going to hurt you, Sarah, and I just...I'm so sorry."

Sarah silenced him with a kiss. "I know and it's ok. But if we both want to stay alive much longer we need to get somewhere where we're safe."

He nodded, then examined the the ruined jeep adn the two bodies lying strewn across the pavement. "How we are going to explain this to Beckman is beyond me," he said and added,"she'll never let us go on another vacation. I hope she doesn't make us pay for our room back at the hotel…even on the CIA's salary, I couldn't possibly pay for all of that," he trailed off and Sarah no longer heard him.

She saw the fuzzy outline of three vehicles approaching them at an extrodinary speed.

_Black SUVs, _Her brain told her. _Why are they heading this way? It looks like they're coming…_

Her eyes went wide. "They're coming towards us!"

"What? What are you talking about?" Chuck asked.

She had no time to elaborate. Taking Chuck by her hand, she dragged him away from the front entrance. "Reinforcements are here," she said.

Chuck whirled his head and saw the cars. He cursed, "Shit."

"We need to get inside the Embassy."

"There's no way we'll make it in there alive. Security will probably shoot us before letting us in."

Sarah bit back a retort. Chuck was absolutely right. "What do we do? We can't outgun them!"

He briefly scanned the area. "We need to run," she heard him mutter. "We need to get somewhere safe, Sarah. We need to go." He must've seen something of interest because he smirked. Sarah looked at him questioningly and before she knew it, Chuck had flashed and was now standing beside the abandoned motorcycle.

She looked at it with uncertainty. "You don't know how to work this thing."

"I know, but the Intersect does."

Chuck swung his leg over the bike and settled himself in the seat. Now straddling it, Sarah bit her lip in consideration. She took a deep breath before hopping on behind him. She placed her hands on either said of his waist and Chuck kicked the motorcycle into life. It began to vibrate; Sarah pressed herself into Chuck's back and held on for dear life.

"Are you ready?" He yelled.

"Yes!" _No!_

"Alright then," he shouted excitedly. "Let's see what this baby can do!"

There was a triumphant roar from the motorcycle, and Sarah felt it give a nasty lurch. The pistons exploded with such magnificent power that it shot out like a torpedo. They moved fast, her eyes watering slightly, blonde hair whipping behind her. Her vision became nothing more than a myriad of nonsensical images and colors. She buried her face into the crook of Chuck's shoulder as he swerved back and forth expertly—bullets were flying in their direction. They whizzed past her ear, clipping the bike, nearly ending their lives…

Sarah did not know where they were heading and she did not expect for Chuck to either, but she trusted him (and the Intersect) blindly. The longer they traveled, the less frequent the gunfire became. She no longer felt like she would vomit from the nauseating colors, and rather became comforted by the cool darkness that lay ahead. Nevertheless, it did pose an interesting question.

"How can you see when its pitch black?" She asked nervously."We need to stop and figure out where we are."

The bike rocked back and forth, almost ready to tip over. Then it stabilized itself and Chuck said, "I think the tank is almost empty."

She picked up on the uneasiness of his tone. "Then stop it," she told him.

There was a long pause.

"I…can't."

Her stomach dropped. "What do you mean you can't?"

"The flash…sort of ended," he admitted sheepishly. Sarah could imagine the look of embarrassment on his face. He then rambled on frantically,"I don't know how to stop the bike without the Intersect. I can barely see what's ahead of me let alone where the breaks are!"

"Calm down, Chuck, just try and feel for them. I think it works like a regular bicycle. There should be a lever to squeeze or something."

While Chuck began to fumble for the breaks, Sarah squinted into the night to find that they were no longer surrounded by bright lights and loud music. There were dirt, trees and desolation.

"Hey, I think I found it!" Chuck had said, and then Sarah felt the bike halt unexpectedly; lost its baring and began to slide across the uneven surface. She knew as they spun out of control that crashing was imminent. All she could do was prepare herself for impact. The front wheel hit a ditch and Chuck was tossed off the bike, flying over the handlebars and simply vanished. Sarah heard a pitiful groan followed by a sickening crunch, and then finally silence.

Sarah felt shivers crawl beneath her skin. She scooted further on the bike's seat; pulled hard on the handlebars to avoid meeting the same fate. She groped for the breaks but it was too late. With an earsplitting, ground-trembling crash, she slipped off the bike. She began to roll downward and did not stop until her back slammed forcefully into a tree. With a choked moan, her body rested spread-eagled on the cold, moist earth. Her blood mixed with fresh tears and Sarah croaked weakly into the darkness. "Chuck?"

There was no response.

Sarah called his name again but with the same results. When her voice became just a whisper, eyelids drooped closed and then the overwhelming pain finally swept her into a painless oblivion.

* * *

*If you don't know what, "constant vigilance" is from, then shame on you.

**An: **This story is now leaning heavily into AU depending on how I wish to incorporate the way the show is currently heading. I don't know when the next chapter will be out, but bear with me, I'm trying.

Chapter Seven: Go!


	7. Go!

Chapter Seven: Go!

**An: **And I'm back! Jeez, that took forever. Did anyone actually miss me?

Yes?

No?

Oh well, either way I have a new chapter finished and ready to go.

But first, a note-from now on when I address Ellie and Devon's daughter, her name will be Clara (as in canon) and not Stephanie. Get it? Got it? Good.

There's not much else to say but to enjoy, and review to your heart's content!

I'm serious about reviewing though ;)

* * *

When Chuck opened his eyes to the early rays of dawn beating against his face, he was dazzled by hues of green and gold swimming into view. Laying flat on his back in a field of grass with his head angled towards the sky, he drew a deep breath into his flattened lungs, blinking furiously to diminish the horrid glare that was sunlight streaming through a canopy of leaves far above him.

…_am I dead?_

He felt the rapid thumping of his heart rattle against his rib cage and groaned. So he was obviously alive, which was of course a great relief, but it still did not explain where he was or how he came to be there. All Chuck knew was that he had a terrible migraine and felt as though he had jumped from a ten-storey building and somehow survived the fall. Unwilling to remain in one place, he slowly pushed himself upright with the support of his elbows. Every inch of him ached in volatile protest.

Chuck's face contorted into a grimace as he maneuvered his body over onto his hands and knees. His arms wobbled as he gripped handfuls of grass to keep his balance. Once he was moderately steady, he lifted his head to become acquainted with his surroundings. He was smack in the middle of what appeared to be a jungle; barricaded by trees that towered menacingly on all sides, and one immensely massive (not to mention deadly) hill. It was littered with so many decaying logs, twisted vines and jagged rocks that it caused Chuck to physically cringe.

"Ow, shit." Chuck cursed aloud, feeling a sudden burst of pain in the back of his head. He instinctively pressed his hand to the injured area, it was swollen and damp, and then removed his palm to see it was drenched in red paint.

_Not red paint, _a voice deadpanned. _It's blood. You're bleeding, moron. _

Chuck blanched and proceeded to wipe his hand off on the grass. Now his brain was throbbing and it was becoming increasingly difficult to concentrate. He knew it was paramount to figure out what had happened to him, even if he did have no inclination of what that could entail. He bit his lip, contemplating his situation; felt another stab of pain and then decided it was best to shut his eyes and see if he could conjure anything from the previous night.

Mostly every instance short of him waking up was obtuse and vague. His recent memory was just a troublesome haze, but there was one thing that remained as a beacon of light among all of his disarray. Chuck could faintly recall the image of a woman. She was staring at him with frightened turquoises eyes (weird, because she was nearly always fearless). Blonde, untamed hair whipped around her face. Lips began to part as though she were about to scream.

That's when he remembered.

—_Glass shattering…dodging bullets…chaos…darkness…and then a deafening crash…pain…silence._

Chuck's eyes snapped open: "Sarah."

He whirled around at breakneck speed, searching frantically for his missing wife. A horribly tight sensation gripped him when could not find her. Chuck knew that he had been the one to initially lose control of the motorcycle. The Intersect had failed him (or he had failed it). He was bucked off the bike and unconscious before he hit the ground. Sarah, however, she had managed to hold on. Perhaps she was able to guide herself through the darkness and to somewhere safe? There was a chance that she was actively looking for him, but then there was also an equal possibility that she wasn't.

_Sarah could be dead. _Chuck realized with dread. He could hear the blood drumming in his ears. His mouth went dry and he lost all the color in his face. _It would be my entire fault…if I could've just been able to control the Intersect, if I could've been a better spy…_

Chuck felt his eyes begin to water. He didn't want to think about it, but he had to prepare. He had to consider that Sarah, that she may be gone. He settled his eyes onto his wedding band which was still fitted on the finger of his left hand. It hadn't been damaged from the crash; shining with the same intensity it had on the day of the wedding.

He trembled. Tears threatened to fall but Chuck sniffed them away. He leveled his gaze and let his eyes wander for a few moments while his mind was someplace else. It was when he spotted something on the opposite side of the clearing did it bring finally Chuck back to the present. His heart practically leapt into his throat. The sense of urgency numbed him at once; and he then began to crawl across the field of grass, his pace quickening when it became evident that what he had seen was a body, and that body was Sarah.

She was curled up beneath a tree. Its trunk was splintered and pieces of bark had shed to the ground. The petals belonging to pink blossoms that hung from the branches rained down intermittenly, forming a pile flowers around her. The petals were matted into her golden hair, strewn above her like a halo.

Chuck became abruptly still. He watched his wife's motionless form for a long while, afraid to move. But he braced himself and tentatively inched closer towards Sarah until he rested next to her. His eyes roamed over her body, noting the bruises she sustained from the crash as well as the cut above her temple and how it bled freely.

He settled a hand on her cheek and caressed it gently. "Sarah," he began with a whisper. "Wake up, honey." Her chest rose up and down in a shallow rhythm. Chuck felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. He leaned forward, ignoring his aching bones, and pressed his forehead against hers. Chuck stayed like this for awhile, silent and listening to the sounds of the earth working in tandem with Sarah's steady breathing.

Chuck idly wondered if he could lay with her and revel in the peaceful silence.

_That could be nice..._

"Good morning, Prince Charming."

Chuck's brief musings had come to a halt. The sound of another's voice caused him recoil and almost fell backwards into the grass. He sat on his heels with an expression of great surprise as Sarah struggled to bring herself forward. Her blue eyes stared at him with slight amusement. Chuck was still in a state of shock and thus was unable to form a coherent thought. He was speechless.

"Chuck, are you ok?" Her voice was hoarse, but it did not stop the hint of playfulness from bleeding through. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

This snapped Chuck back to reality. "You're alive!" He blurted out.

"So are you," she replied and sounded extremely relieved. After the motorcycle crashed and before she had passed out due to exhaustion, Sarah thought that Chuck had been killed. Seeing him alive in person had assuaged all of her worries away. Sarah was so overwhelmed that she practically launched herself at Chuck, pulling him into a bone-crushing hug.

"Sarah," Chuck gasped, unable to breathe. He hissed once he felt a hand graze the back of his head. Sarah retreated and her face was masked with a mix of shock and concern. Her fingers which had been threading themselves in Chuck's curls were now stained red.

"Chuck, you're bleeding!"

"Yeah," he said with tearful eyes and a watery smile. "Uh, I think I might've hit a rock or something after I fell off the bike…"

"We need to clean that out immediately," Sarah told him as she rose to her feet. She began to tidy herself up, fixing clothes and brushing pieces of hair from out of her face. With these few adjustments Chuck observed that Sarah had seemingly shrugged off her near-death experience. He looked up at her, amazed. This was _his _wife. Meeting his bewildered expression, Sarah went on in the same business-like tone. "Chuck, c'mon. The longer we do nothing the more likely you'll contract an infection."

Chuck nodded and made a half-hearted attempt to move into a standing position but found his body wouldn't cooperate. Thousands of tiny daggers stabbed into his flesh; his head was overcome with a debilitating headache so that it was impossible to move. He exchanged a meek look with Sarah.

"I think I _may _require some assistance."

Sarah huffed and held out a hand while Chuck just grinned.

* * *

"Please tell me you know what happened to the satchel," Sarah asked once helping Chuck to his feet. Almost toppling over, he reasserted his balance and then shrugged.

"Honestly, I have no clue where it is," he admitted. "But it couldn't have gone too far, I mean I was wearing it before, you know…" he made the hand-gesture to mimic the fall, "we crashed."

Sarah sighed. Hands on her hips, she took a moment to survey the area. She took a few steps in each direction, and then her gaze fell onto the hill. It was steep. Riddled with every lethal aspect that nature had to offer, it was a wonder they had survived.

"I can see it," Sarah exclaimed not much later. Chuck looked at her in disbelief. She pointed to where a large vine jutted out the side of the hill. The satchel was hanging from its end, dangling back and forth in the breeze.

Chuck's laugh was dry, "No way."

"I'll go get it and make sure that everything inside is still intact."

Chuck frowned and thought about the bioweapon. If any component was somehow damaged then there was a chance that the powder could've been released. Chuck swallowed thickly, his face gone pale.

"Be careful," was all he could manage to say. _Don't die, don't die, don' die!_

Sarah approached to where the ground became elevated. She hesitated briefly and glanced over her shoulder, back to where Chuck stood nervously. "Don't freak out," she said with a reassuring smile.

It took seconds for her to scale the incline and claim the satchel. Throughout this short duration, Chuck waited, rocking on the balls of his feet. He was holding his breath and praying that a careless mistake on his part wouldn't be the cause of their joint demise. Sarah soon returned with the bag in hand. She thrust it towards him.

"Do you want to check if the toxic agent has been breached or should I?"

"I—I'll do it."

Chuck grabbed the satchel, reminding himself that he's been in worse situations. A few months ago he had defused a suitcase nuke with apple juice. He could do this. It'd be easy. Like Sarah had said moments earlier, _Don't freak out. _

_Easier said than done, _Chuck grimaced inwardly.

The Bible was unharmed as was the vial contained inside. Chuck exhaled a sigh of relief. Sarah rolled her eyes. He quickly stuffed it back inside the satchel, slung it over his shoulder and lastly made sure the strap was secure tightly over his chest. The last thing he needed was to lose it again.

"What did I tell you?" chirped Sarah, and she gave Chuck a peck on the cheek. "Now that's settled, we should probably go find a stream or water source to wash your wound, then maybe we can figure out our next move."

"Yes, honey."

* * *

As they made their trek for water, Chuck had come to realize that the jungle wasn't as dangerous of a place as he originally imagined. It was dense and humid, and that was annoying but not unmanageable by any means. He seriously thought five minutes in that he and Sarah would've been attacked by an anaconda or a tribe of angry natives. But he was pleasantly surprised to find Sarah had easily navigated them both to a remote clearing with a small creek and a place to rest.

"Did I ever tell you that I love you?" asked Chuck as he approached the creek, his grin broadening.

Sarah did not reply and instead simply returned his smile with her own, then unzipped her jacket and slipped off her shoes. Chuck mimicked her; untying his Converse and setting them somewhere dry along with his tattered shirt. He now sat at the edge of the bank, sighing as Sarah poured handfuls of water over his head. The blood clots matted into his hair dissolved, dripping down the nape of his neck in bright crimson streaks.

"It doesn't look too bad," Sarah observed. She inspected the injury with careful fingers. "I think you'll need around ten stitches at most."

"That's good." He angled his head in Sarah's direction. She was now sitting beside him with her bare feet dangling into the creek. She glanced at him, her exposed skin covered in droplets of water that sparkled like diamonds beneath the sun. "I've been thinking... that if we ignore the fact that we're currently being hunted by some very bad men and already almost got ourselves killed, all things aside, this has been a pretty nice honeymoon."

Sarah raised a brow, "I hope you're being sarcastic."

"Hey, we can at least say it was _eventful_."

"Chuck, just how hard _did_ you hit your head?"

"I'm fine! A little positive thinking goes a long way, that's all. You should be more optimistic, Sarah."

Sarah narrowed her eyes and sent a gigantic splash of water straight into Chuck's face. Chuck shook his head like a wet dog and laughed.

"You're incorrigible," Sarah remarked with a pout. *

Chuck wiped a hand over his face, replying, "I don't even know what that means." *

Sarah continued to splash her husband again, to which he retaliated, and then just as she was about to push Chuck into the creek, she froze. Her ears perked up when hearing the distinct chatter of voices nearby. They were faint, mere echoes, but it was enough to put Sarah on high alert.

Chuck looked at her confusedly, "what's up?"

"Shush, listen."

They newlyweds fell silent. There were more voices, foreign and louder this time. Chuck's eyes went wide and he traded furtive glances with Sarah. She nodded slowly and they scrambled to their feet, grabbing all of their articles of clothing and the satchel. They both then darted into the jungle, seeking coverage from behind the trees as they each began to get dressed.

"Crap, how did they find us so quickly?" Chuck said lowly, leaning against the trunk of a tree while hurrying to tie his shoes.

"They probably found the motorcycle and tracked us from there," Sarah replied. She was digging into her jacket pocket to reveal the blade she had stashed away on her person. She flipped it open; held it poised and ready for use, its tip glinting malevolently in shadows.

"What's the plan if they find us?"

"We either stay and fight or run," Sarah determined calmly. "But we need to be ready for either option."

Chuck nodded while his hand touched the watch still strapped around his wrist. _Thank god the Governor wasn't harmed by the crash or I'd be screwed._

The voices continued to grow louder with each passing second. Sarah pressed her back to the tree and peered around and into the clearing. There she could see several men, all equipped with automatic weapons, standing by the creek, conversing in their native language. She strained to listen and possibly translate what they were saying to each other.

"_Kino's bike was in pieces, so the two gringos can't be far." _The leader of the group told the others in his deep, gravelly voice. His accent made it almost impossible for Sarah to decipher the Spanish. _"Senor Garcia has given strict order to find the satchel at all costs. Once we locate the thieves," _he cocked his AK-47 for emphasis, "_we put them in the ground. Bien?"_

There was a chorus of '_biens' _from all of the mercenaries. They then held up their weapons and began scouting the perimeter. Sarah retreated behind the tree's cover once again; looked towards Chuck, who had his hands balled into fists, preparing to flash at moment's notice.

"It's too late to run, huh?"

Sarah bit her lip, "Yes."

"How many are there?"

"Six."

He chuckled nervously, "Piece of cake."

"Just…" She heard the footsteps march closer and never finished the sentence. The mercenary appeared right between Chuck and Sarah. Once he was literally on top of them, Sarah attacked. She stealthily sent the knife into his jugular while using her free hand to cover his mouth from alerting the others. He bled out in seconds. Sarah then threw the body into the bushes but kept the gun in her possession.

Chuck watched the short-lived fight in its entirety with his mouth hanging wide open. Sarah shared an apologetic look with her husband. She knew her callousness made Chuck uneasy, but it was a necessary evil. She had to protect them both or else they'd suffer a much worse fate. Chuck seemed to understand this, and for that, Sarah was grateful. And so she inhaled a deep breath and quickly fired off a round into the clearing. Her shots were returned immediately with double the force; Sarah ducked out of the line of fire and took refuge next to Chuck.

She told him: "Chuck, I'm going to make a distraction and then when I say to go, I want you to run and don't look back—"

"No, no, no way, Sarah, I'm not leaving you!"

"I'll be right behind you, I promise!"

Chuck shook his head and shouted, "What part of _till death do us apart_ did you not get when we made our vows?"

"Chuck…" Sarah begged.

As he was about to retort, another mercenary came up from behind Sarah. Chuck saw this and the Intersect went online, bringing about a powerful flash. He first pushed Sarah aside, and then approached the merc head-on. The gun fired repeatedly and Chuck managed to dodge every bullet. While having the upper hand, he grabbed the gun with all of his strength and slammed the butt of the weapon into the mercenary's face. The sound of bones shattering was deafening. Once the mercenary fell, and the flash receded, Chuck dropped the gun and rushed to his wife's aid.

"Sarah, let's go, we gotta go!"

Chuck wasted no time for a response. He grabbed Sarah by the wrist and dragged her out of the onslaught of gunfire and straight into the jungle. They sprinted through the depths of the forest until they could only hear the gunshots and angry voices in the far distance. Their pace slowed and the duo took haven among a massive growth of vegetation.

"That…that was close," Chuck panted.

Sarah glanced up at him."Thank you for saving my life."

"I'm just trying to repay my debt for all those times you've saved my ass," he reminded her with a cheeky grin. "So no thanks necessary."

There was a short pause which allowed both Chuck and Sarah to recover. Not much tim passed before the voices returned with a vengeance as did the gunfire.

"We should probably get going..."

Sarah smiled tiredly. "Probably."

And so the spies took off running and never looked back. Not even when the bullet had sliced through Chuck's leg did he feel the unmistakable agony wreck through him until an hour later when he leapt off the cliff and sunk deep beneat the lake's surface. That second night they spent in the Panamanian wilderness, the Bartowski's hoped for a better tomorrow.

Sadly, things only got worse from there.

* * *

* That's from Scott Pilgrim. Todd Ingram (our very own Brandon Routh) talks with Envy blablabla.

Chapter Eight: After the Storm

**An: **So next chapter will be where we left Chuck and Sarah off after chapter two. How will they continue their trek across the Panamanian jungle? What trouble will they run into? What friends and enemies will they make on the way? And just how bad can their luck get? Spoiler: bad.

Review if you want Chuck to get a Season 5!


	8. After the Storm

Chapter Eight: After the Storm

**An: **Thank you for the lovely reviews as always, everyone. However I did notice a trend of some reviews that stated they were upset at the lack of fluff and happiness in the story. First off, I could make this story very dark, but I'm only trying to make it realistic, not by Chuck standards, but by my standards. This is a survival story. If you don't like me beating up Chuck and Sarah, well, it doesn't get much worse till the very end, so don't worry. Fortunately for most of you, these next few chapters will be pretty light and fun.

Review for the sake of Chuck's longevity (not sure how it'll help keep the show on air, but I digress). Or just review because you're the best fandom ever and it boosts my self-esteem.

* * *

**Present Day**

_He stands where the shore merges with the sea, peering into the horizon as whitewash laps gently at his feet. Fondling a smooth black stone between his fingers, he tosses it; watches it skip across the ocean caps to only end up disappearing beneath the surface. He smiles, content. Now she's beside him, and her hand takes his. They do not speak. Their lips touch and it lasts for an instant. Comfort is replaced with calamity. The earth trembles and quakes, the waves becoming violent and treacherous. There is a familiar agony that seizes his entire body and it consumes him whole. Everything in sight is devoured by a hot, relentless pain. She is swallowed by it. And he succumbs to it as well. The world goes white and no one can hear him scream for help. _

"Chuck, wake up!"

Chuck opened his eyes. He was lying again on the gravelly floor of the cavern, curled next to a giant slab of rock. Morning had come but it was still fairly dark. The mouth of the cave was swathed in mist and shadow, only a sliver of sunlight peered through the entrance. The waterfall outside roared with newfound vigor from last night's torrential downpour. Chuck was sweating, his leg on fire.

"Are you alright, I heard you scream…?"

"I—uh, bad dream I guess."

"Is it your leg?"

Sarah's face was distorted by the darkness but Chuck could tell by her tone that she was worried.

"It's seen better days, but…I'll survive."

"Right," she sounded uncertain. "Anyway, we should probably be going before it gets much lighter. I don't want to give Garcia's men any advantage in finding us."

Chuck nodded stiffly, the pain in his leg (and now head) reaching a peak. "Sounds like a plan." He said gruffly then quickly suggested." While we're up, we should probably go look for some food too, I don't think we've eaten anything in the last two days…"

"Almost three."

Chuck sat up and his stomach growled. He settled a hand on his abdomen and frowned; the mere mention of food had instilled a hunger within him that was difficult to ignore. It even exceeded the aches and discomfort of his body.

"Right, so the sooner we get out of here, the sooner we find food and hopefully rejoin civilization."

Sarah added, "And then you can get medical attention while I look for a way to try and get in touch with either Casey or Beckman. Let them know we're still alive so we can rendezvous at a safe location…"

"—then we can turn over this godforsaken thing to the CIA," Chuck averted his eyes to where the satchel lay still.

"And we can finally go home."

The sun had risen above the jungle's landscape. The cool blue light of dawn bathed the inside of the cave, revealing to the two spies that they were only inches apart. Both of them looked positively exhausted; disheveled and miserable, it further amplified their deteriorating mood. Chuck grabbed Sarah by the hand and began to massage it with slow reassurance.

"And we can finally go home," he murmured and leaned forward to capture her lips with a kiss.

They made their departure from the cave moments later. Sarah helped Chuck up to his feet, keeping him upright in casae he might fall over. He steadied himself and gave her an apologetic look.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"For what, Chuck?"

"For this," he motioned to his leg. "Or maybe just me in general. I feel like you're taking care of me again, like I'm only a useless asset instead of the spy I'm supposed to be. And being your husband…I'm supposed to protect you. But how am I supposed to do that when I can barely protect myself?"

"You're doing fine," Sarah assured him. "I know you've saved me a few times already, and that's what partners do, Chuck. When one of us is injured or in trouble, the other has to be there to back them up regardless of gender roles. It's not like we've adhered to any social norms to a T, have we?"

Chuck forced a smile, "Normalcy is overrated."

"Just a little bit," she retured his smile. "Being different is why we work together so well in the first place. Now let's get going, we have a long day ahead of us, Chuck."

He looked towards the lake. It was calm on the surface, with the exception of an occasional ripple, but he knew swimming through it would be a whole different matter. The water was thick and heavy not to mention cold from the rainfall. He was going to definitely need help, as much as he would resist the very idea.

He sighed and his leg prickled in agreement.

* * *

"I'm surprised…I didn't… drown…that was close," Chuck panted madly. He doubled over and started coughing up water. Sarah watched sympathetically; Chuck's injured leg was now visibly shaking; her jacket unraveling, blood seeped through the material and stained his jeans a dark crimson color.

Crossing the lake had been a lot more strenuous than she had anticipated. Chuck had shown promise, but that was before they were forced to dive into the chilly depths. It went to hell the moment he broke the surface. His body had gone into a state of shock, his leg going completely numb and useless. In his panic, Chuck was rescued by Sarah in just enough time so that he wouldn't sink to the bottom of the lake. The sheer energy exerted to keep him afloat was particularly brutal. Needless to say, the day was still early and she was already physically and emotionally drained.

"The tourniquet isn't doing you any good, it's falling apart." Sarah noted with quiet concern.

Chuck lifted his head, wiping a hand over his mouth. He was drenched to the skin, his hair plastered to his face. "Yeah, well I didn't expect it to last very long…"

She pressed her lips together in deep thought; eyes roamed the jungle outskirts. "I think I know something that can help. Wait here." Sarah spoke in the same low tone, and Chuck almost didn't hear her. He watched perplexed as she turned for the jungle's entrance while he stayed behind.

She had diverged from the dirt-ridden path, inspecting various plants and trees in the immediate area. A few seconds later, she approached an old, gnarled, and resilient-looking tree; grabbed a branch and applied enough pressure until it snapped.

Sarah returned shortly after and presented Chuck with the broken limb. He assessed it carefully, and then upon realizing that it was meant for him, he commented dryly: "A walking stick? Really? Great, now I'm going to feel like I'm a hundred years old…"

"Do you see any better alternatives?"

"No…"Chuck grumbled and took the staff, planting it into the soft earth. He took an experimental step forward and winced. "This _is_ going to be a long day."

Sarah's eyes softened. "We'll take it slow," she said and gave him a consoling peck on the cheek. "I promise."

"Right, well just make sure to not to accidently leave me behind, ok? I'm severely handicapped."

"I won't leave you unless you're holding me back, Chuck. That's the Law of the Jungle: every man, or woman for themselves. Anything goes," She winked teasingly.*

"Ah…good old Rudyard Kipling," Chuck said, cleared his throat and then quoted: "Now this is the Law of the Jungle, as old and as true as the sky; and the Wolf that shall keep it may prosper, but the Wolf that shall break it must die. As the creeper that girdles the tree-trunk the Law runneth forward and back—for the strength of the Pack is the Wolf…"

"And the strength of the Wolf is the Pack," Sarah finished. She raised a brow curiously. "How did you know all that?"

"Please Sarah, I read The Jungle Book." Chuck bragged with a crooked smile. "Plus, I'm the Intersect remember? I have a 98% retention rate or better, baby."

"Oh wow, you really are a nerd."

"And in the end, the joke's on you because you're married to said nerd."

Sarah playfully swatted him on the shoulder to which he stuck out his tongue in return. Balling her fist for another jab, Chuck used the stick to shield him from the blonde's wrath. When a carnal shriek then tore into the air, the spies were rendered petrified.

"What the_ hell_ was that?"

"I, I don't know…" Sarah answered tensely. "But whatever it is, it sounded close…we need to go, now."

"Ditto," said Chuck. With the clarity of his amped-up nerves, he judged his surroundings; a flash loomed dangerously in his eyes.

Without another word, they embarked for the path leading directly into the jungle. Neither of them strayed too far from the trail. The next several hours was spent with their hands intertwined, both unwilling to let go for fear that the darkness would whisk the other away.

* * *

Time dragged on at a pace that made molasses seem speedy. Their trek had been relatively uneventful. The newlyweds were now deep into the recesses of the jungle territory; following a stream of water until it would either empty out into the ocean, or a town (if they were lucky) was the objective. Sarah was currently in the lead with Chuck lagging at the rear. His limp had grown steadily worse over the duration of their travels; fatigue and blood loss was taking its toll.

The creek had eventually taken them down into a valley. The descent was particularly difficult for Chuck to take on without considering the chance he'd lose his balance and tumble down the hill. Once they had manage to reach level ground, he opened his mouth to ask Sarah how far they were going; but of course he knew. Until nightfall was her plan, then they'd camp out and begin their journey at the break of dawn the following day.

Another mile passed by and Chuck seemed to taste blood in his saliva with every breath he drew, twice he had to brush his sweat-soaked hair out of his face. He felt his body failing him, he had to succumb. Adrenaline could only do so much in circumstances such as these, he realized sadly.

_I think I should just sit down, _Chuck told himself when his vision began to blur. _If I sit and rest, I'll be good to go for maybe another couple miles or so…_

But what would happen after a couple of miles?

He shuddered at the thought.

"Chuck, I think if we make it over those next two hills we'll be in good shape for tomorrow." Sarah announced. Her back was still faced to him, and so she could not see her ailing husband. With no response, she whirled around and repeated his name with a sense of urgency. "Chuck?"

With a strained attempt at a lopsided smile, Chuck replied: "Now would be a good time for a break…" Then he promptly fell backwards, unconscious before he even hit the ground.

* * *

He was revived by water being dumped over his head in the bucketfuls. Chuck groaned, blinking furiously as he became reacquainted with his surroundings. The sun was at the highest point in the cloudless sky. It bore down on the earth with its hot rays, almost too bright for Chuck to keep his eyes open. He used a hand to shield his face while he looked around.

"Oh thank god you're awake," he heard a voice exclaim with relief. It was Sarah. She was kneeling before him, holding what appeared to be a hollowed-out coconut. She handed it to him, "Drink it, you'll feel better." He hesitated. "Chuck, please. You're dehydrated, you need water."

Chuck held the coconut with both hands and took a tentative sip. The cool water dripped into his open mouth, eliciting a pleased sound from his throat. He quickly emptied the bowl and gave it to Sarah, who smiled.

"There, you feel better?" She asked.

He licked his lips thoughtfully. "I passed out, didn't I?"

"You don't remember?"

He shrugged.

"Yes, you did," Sarah admitted and sounded guilty. "I should've been paying better attention to your condition. It was my fault. I'm supposed to have your back…"

Tilting his head, Chuck grabbed Sarah by the nape of the neck and silenced her with a cool, wet kiss. He pulled away and said, "Its ok, Sarah, trust me. You always have my back. One careles mistake won't of this change that."

Sarah averted her gaze, looking sheepish. She quickly changed the subject, "While you were asleep, I took the liberty to see if I could scrounge up something to eat. I found these," she picked up a small, bright red berry and dropped it into Chuck's open palm.

"What is it?" He inspected the fruit, feeling its thin glossy skin and inhaling its delectable scent. "Smells good…"

"It goes by a lot of names, but it's most commonly known as the Barbados Cherry," Sarah explained. "They're indigenous to Central America…sweet or sour depending on how ripe they are, and they have a high percentage of vitamin C, which will benefit you in your current state, Chuck."

Chuck popped the tiny fruit into his mouth. He chewed a few times before swallowing. He beamed. "Wow, these are great! Where did you find them?"

Sarah reached for a handful of the berries she had piled beside her. Giving some to Chuck, he woofed them down in a blink of an eye. _At least he still has an appetite, _she thoguht, then spoke: "There were a lot of fruit bushes in the valley, probably because it provides a natural irrigation system since its rains frequently here. So I went searching for awhile, remembered from some of my more _covert _missions about which fruits are edible and went from there." Pausing, she added. "Don't worry, I ate one to check if it was poisonous long before you woke up."

Chuck was impressed. "What about the coconut shells?"

"Found them already split open and sitting on the ground by some palm trees. I think some animals had gotten to them…monkeys maybe."

"Monkeys, huh?" He said with a mouthful of cherries. "That's a lot better than seeing tiger or a mercenary."

"I would tend to agree," Sarah finally relaxed and took a seat next to Chuck. She picked nonchalantly at the berries while she stared at the rolling hills covered with jungle undergrowth and beautiful, wild flowers. She sighed. "I did see a sloth though, and a toucan."

"Awesome, oh and by the way, do you have the satchel? I'm sure I had it with me last before I fainted, but now it's gone."

Sarah froze and traded apprehensive glances with Chuck. The satchel was nowhere to be seen. She had left it on Chuck's person when she went searching for food more than an hour ago. Now it was missing. There was no trace for where it could've disappeared to.

"Sarah," Chuck asked nervously. "Please tell me that the satchel did not vanish into thin air?"

Her throat went dry. Completely speechless, she looked hopelessly around the valley landscape, positive that the satchel and bioweapon was long gone. To her pleasant surprise (and amazement) it was not. The satchel was hanging from the branch of a tree. It swayed tauntingly in the warm breeze.

"There it is."

Chuck followed her gaze. "Uh, how did it get up there?"

"I…uh," she frowned, shaking her head. "It doesn't matter; I'm going to go get it."

Rising to her feet, Sarah walked towards the hulking tree. She elevated herself onto the tips of her toes and swiped for the strap of the bag to no avail. The second attempt yielded the same results. Annoyed, Sarah leapt into the air, grabbing the satchel with a tight, vice-like grip.

_There we go, _and she tugged on the bag with all her might, trying to dislodge it free. But it appeared to be stuck. She yanked harder again and again; something or someone was definitely keeping her from obtaining the satchel at any cost.

"Hey, babe…?" Chuck piped up to get her attention. Sarah glanced over her shoulder, nostrils flaring with impatience. He gulped, but went on to say. "You should know that the reason why you're having so much trouble with the satchel is because there is literally a family of monkeys holding onto it for dear life."

"Chuck, what are you talking about?" Sarah snapped angrily. She lifted her gaze to where the satchel rested and beheld at least five monkeys circling the branches, each with their grubby hands clutching the bag. Ten pairs of beady eyes locked on to Sarah, their mouths revealing sets of sharp teeth; they proceeded to howl and scream at her.

Sarah let go of the bag immediately. She watched them jump up and down in an angry tirade in attempt to ward her off. She buried her face into her hands and suppressed a scream, "What the hell is going on?"

"It's like we were dropped off into an episode of the Twilight Zone or something," Chuck said and laughed out loud. He was standing by her side, watching the monkeys with an amused grin.

"Do you really think this is funny?" Sarah scowled. "It's unbelievably pathetic…I thought it was bad when Beckman had sent us on that mission to rescue that stupid dog."

"That was pretty bad," Chuck agreed. "But I'm pretty sure when things get as outrageous as this; all you can really do is laugh it off."

Sarah scoffed in disbelief.

"I know you're frustrated, so do me a favor and go sit down and let me take care of this one."

She threw her hands up in surrender. "Be my guest."

Chuck smirked. Rubbing his hands together, he gazed up at the monkeys. He then went cross-eyed, the Intersect overwhelming his senses with a flash. Adrenaline flowing through his veins, his pain had been temporarily assuaged to a dull throb. And like a monkey himself, he agilely scaled up the tree; seized a branch and proceeded to swing limb to limb until he landed onto the very place where the monkeys had taken the satchel.

Almost immediately, the family of monkeys scattered up further into the bushel of leaves above. They left the satchel behind, as well as one of their own. The black and white furred scoundrel stood his ground, hugging the bag to its tiny body. It hissed.

"Hey, I don't want to hurt you, buddy," Chuck told the monkey. "Just hand it over and go back to your family."

The monkey gnashed its teeth in an intimidating fashion. Its resolve was pretty impressive. Chuck sighed. He plucked the satchel out of the mammal's clutches with ease. He smiled wryly, "See, that wasn't so bad now, was it?"

Sarah watched the entire instance unfold with astonishment. But once she saw the monkey rear back and leap at Chuck's face with a terrible screech, her expression changed into that of sheer terror. Chuck lost his balance and fell, but managed to keep his legs hooked around the branch's length, now hanging upside down. He held the satchel by the strap as he dangled in suspended air.

Sarah came rushing towards him. "Chuck, oh my god, are you alright?"

"Hey, Sarah." He said and grinned stupidly. "How about that Spider-Man kiss you still owe me?"

She narrowed her eyes. "Sometimes, you make me question your intelligence. That was extremely reckless, Chuck! You're seriously injured, why the hell would you think it'd be okay to climb a tree?"

Chuck shrugged his shoulders, "I thought it was a good idea at the time."

"—a good idea?"

"Yeah, so uh, can you do me a big favor and catch this for me. I'm going to drop it…can't hold on much longer."

Sarah grumbled, "Fine."

Chuck let the satchel drop into Sarah's ready arms. She made sure that the contents inside were unharmed, then looked up to see Chuck back-flip from off the tree branch and land gracefully on the ground.

They exchanged looks; Chuck was pleased while Sarah looked rightfully upset.

"So, I think that went well."

"You're delusional and need medical attention."

"Don't be mad, Sarah. It was a team effort."

Sarah crossed her arms over her chest. She pointed to Chuck, saying casually. "There's a monkey sitting on top of your head."

"Huh?"

Chuck raised his gaze to find a white-tipped tail swishing in front of his face. He blindly reached above his head and grabbed a small furry body with both hands. It squirmed relentlessly; Chuck brought it down to eye level. It was the same monkey who had caused him to fall not minutes earlier.

"So we meet again, my furry little nemesis."

It hissed.

"Don't be mean; you're the one who clawed at my face."

"Chuck, I think it's hungry. That's why its family stole the satchel in the first place," Sarah told him, her contempt now gone. She dug a hand into her pocket and revealed a handful of Barbados Cherries. "Here, let it eat this."

The monkey wriggled in Chuck's grasp once it saw that berries Sarah was offering. Chuck turned the little guy to her open palm and allowed it access. It engulfed the berries in a matter of seconds. Its muzzle was now stained in the color of the fruit juice. It made a content noise, perhaps a sign that it was full. Feeding it appeared to have vastly improve its mood.

"They're delicious, aren't they?"Chuck asked the monkey happily. "Now that we fed you, I'm going to let you go…but don't try anything funny."

The monkey gave him a blank stare.

Chuck crouched to his knees (feeling the effects of the flash wear off, he winced in pain) and released the monkey. It went onto all fours and shook its furry pelt, followed by scrubbing its face with its tiny hands. Then it looked up at Chuck, then to Sarah. It squealed and dashed up Chuck's body, settling itself once more on top of his head.

"I think it likes you," Sarah giggled, resigning herself to the ridiculousness of the situation.

Chuck took a seat on the grass. He let the monkey do as it pleased; chuckling as it crawled down onto his shoulder, wrapping its tail around his neck. "What should we name him?" he asked his wife.

Sarah frowned, "Name him? Chuck, that monkey is a wild animal, not a pet. It can have diseases."

"Capuchin monkeys _can _be trained as pets," Chuck informed her. "They're basically little butlers. Very smart….I think I'll call him Ampersand."

"Ampersand…you're naming him after the 'and' symbol?"

Chuck shook his head, "No. I'm naming him after the Capuchin monkey from _Y the Last Man, _who happens to be named after the 'and' symbol."

Sarah did not know how to respond to this and so she decided it wa better not to question her husband's quirky behavior. She instead satisfied him with an overdue kiss.

"We should stock up on some more berries and water before we get back on the road," Chuck said when they ended the kiss. His demeanor suddenly shifted into complete seriousness. He looked at her weakly. "I want to get out of here as quickly as we possibly can... I don't know if I can make it another day, Sarah."

Ampersand leapt off of Chuck and sat in between him and Sarah. She stared at Chuck, now noticing how pale he had become; his eyes were half-lidded and bloodshot. Worry panged in her chest. His leg wound was what frightened her the most. The tourniquet was in tatters. The fabric was crusted with old and new blood.

It was safe to say that Chuck Bartowski did not look particularly well. The need to find help was paramount. And if they couldn't find some soon, Sarah feared that an end of some kind would be inevitable. From now to sundown it was a race against time.

Sarah just hoped that luck would be on their side.

* * *

Next Chapter: Si Se Puede!

*The Law of the Jungle is actually my University's motto, for those who want to know why the hell I included it in the story. Go Wolfpack!

**An: **See, I tried to make it lighthearted and goofy fun times for all. I TRIED DAMMIT. But I had to remind everyone that once again, the jungle isn't a nice place. There are monkeys, which are awesome, but there is also disease and Chuck can totally die if he's not saved by some kind of godly force…or a giant blonde she-male.

Also, don't tell me that Chuck was OOC in this chapter. He's under a lot of stress and pain and has a concussion, so he's a little loopy.

As always, Review! Review and vote for the Hulu Best in Show Finale! It's Chuck versus Dexter and we need all the votes we can get to secure the win!


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